These Three
by Silverspoon
Summary: Rewrite of Abandon All Hope and much of the finale of Season 5. A near miss in Carthage shows Dean that waiting for 'the right place, right time' is not always wise. AU. Collab.
1. Prologue

**Authors' Note – This fic is a collaboration between Silverspoon and WelshWitch1011 . We hope you enjoy both our story, and our writing. This fic is set sometime during Season 5 and contains an alternate ending to and continuation of the episode Abandon All Hope. **

**For legal purposes, we do not own anything (although both of us wish we owned Dean).**

_**Prologue**_

_**Carthage, Missouri**_

Nausea; the feeling that let her know that she was still alive, although she was uncertain yet as to whether she was glad of this fact.

Her vision blurred at the edges and a groan that she seemed to have little control over escaped her lips. A single breath was all it took to ignite the burning pain in her side. Jo whimpered and although she knew that she should be comforted by the hand that pressed itself to her forehead, she was not. She struggled to pull her vision into focus and found a pair of green eyes, brimming with concern, boring into her own.

The metallic stench of blood was acrid, and Jo's stomach roiled in protest as it invaded her nostrils. She swallowed against a further wave of sickness and attempted to lift her head, finding her stilted movements halted by both the hand now caressing her temple and the pain that had instantaneously engulfed her.

The arms around her tightened, holding her in an embrace that was careful and yet also strangely desperate. Through the eerie silence that had now descended upon the room, she heard the pounding of a racing heart beneath her ear.

"Don't try to move," a familiar voice whispered. The owner of it sounded almost broken and Jo opened her eyes wider in an attempt to finally sharpen her vision. The gesture helped a little, bringing the dirty, abandoned hardware store the group now occupied into focus. Sam was working at the windows and doors with an open bag of rock salt he had retrieved from an overflowing bin.

The door, which had already been secured by a heavy chain, rattled as a body flung itself against the glass from the outside. The assailant was entirely invisible to the naked eye but Jo knew without a doubt what lay beyond the hopelessly thin barrier. She supressed a shudder for fear of causing herself further pain and simply concentrated instead on remaining conscious. Her head was spinning still and the memory of how she had gotten into such a predicament was hazy at best.

Strong arms set her down on the floor and Jo gasped as she watched her own blood begin to pool beneath her on the tiles. She realised that her hands, both pressed against the wound on her abdomen, were doing little to stem the flow.

"You're ok, you're going to be ok," the husky voice insisted, as though the mantra was more for their own personal assurance.

Jo could find neither the words nor the energy to reply, and instead licked her drying lips and merely peered up at the owner of the voice from beneath hooded eyes. Her body felt strangely light and calm. The rapid beating within her chest slowed to a lazy, inconsistent flutter, and her eyes slipped closed once more.

The cold and the darkness beckoned her, beginning to draw her deeper and deeper into sleep and as she felt the warmth of her blood seeping beneath her, for the first time in her life, Jo Harvelle contemplated surrender.

A sudden jarring of her body and a firm hand pressing against her wounded side jolted her from the edge of unconsciousness, and she cursed under her breath with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

"Jo! You stay with me, Jo. You hear me? You need to stay awake. Stay with me," this time the voice seemed more insistent, desperate - perhaps even panicked.

The rasping of a second voice drew Jo's attention to the left. She turned a little too quickly and the wooziness claimed her again. Once her vision had cleared sufficiently, Jo's eyes took in the sight of her mother.

Ellen Harvelle was irreparably broken, that much was clear. Claw marks marred her upper torso, four thick tracks that stretched from the tip of her collar bone right down to the curve of her hip. Jo swallowed hard and watched as Sam Winchester crouched by her mother's side, capturing her hand in his own in a gesture of comfort.

Ellen's complexion was paling and some of the light had already begun to fade from her eyes, but still her concern was reserved only for her daughter. The daughter she had sacrificed herself to save.

"How's she doin' Dean?" Ellen drawled, her Southern accent thickening as it always did when she was resolute about something or other.

Lifting the bunched up shirt from the wound, Dean exhaled slowly and steadily, relieved to see his makeshift dressing and continued pressure had managed to somewhat control the bleeding.

"She's doing good, Ellen. She's going to be fine," grim determination coloured his tone and he reapplied the dressing firmly to her side, pressing his lips apologetically to her forehead as she winced at the gesture.

Ellen nodded, closing her eyes and allowing her head to rest wearily against the wall behind her, as her fingers closed around the object in her hand, a trigger that was wired to several gas canisters, complete with bags of rock salt and iron nails.

Dean watched as Sam approached them, his steps heavy and unwilling as he came to a stop before his brother and nodded at him solemnly, "It's time."

As if on cue, the doors shook once more against the weight of their invisible foe and the unearthly howls of the hell hounds suddenly spurred them into action.

Ellen watched as Dean gathered Jo up into his arms, lifting her limp body from the ground and bringing her hurriedly to her mother's side.

A shaking hand gently brushed at the young woman's hair and a single kiss was placed on her cheek, "You take care of my girl, Dean."

"Always Ellen," Dean promised, his voice catching in his throat as he regarded Ellen, who for many years now he had come to look upon as a mother figure. Ellen managed a warm smile, the corners of her eyes creasing with the gesture and her lips setting against the pain that it brought her. She reached out and brushed her fingertips lightly across Dean's cheek.

"I know you will," she replied, her bottom lip trembling as tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Sam swallowed hard from behind him, drawing Dean's attention.

"I'll open the doors, you guys get a head start," Sam murmured, his gaze never once wavering from Ellen's face. She was beginning to fade, and they had little time if their plan was to prove successful. The baying of the hounds from outside was almost mocking now, and Dean felt the fury building in his gut at what those mutts had almost achieved. They had taken one Harvelle woman today, but he was determined that they would not have the other.

"Mom…" Jo murmured, stirring in Dean's arms again. "Mom, no, please… I want to stay."

Ellen shook her head, visibly struggling for breath as she pleaded with Dean to take her daughter to safety, mustering up what little strength she had to yell, "Get her out of here, just get her out of here!"

Jo sobbed against the fabric of Dean's shirt, her fists pounding violently against his chest as she thrashed and kicked in opposition.

Swallowing hard and trying to fight back his own emotions, Dean focused on the task at hand and carried her hurriedly toward the fire escape, kicking the heavy metal door repeatedly until it finally gave way to his assault and flew open.

Rushing outside, he quickly placed Jo on her feet, an arm moving around her waist to steady her as her shaking legs almost gave way. Tears streamed down her face as she glared back at him and for a brief second they merely stared at each other.

"I hate you_, I hate you_," she snarled, struggling to break his grip but finding her strength almost gone as she wept uncontrollably.

Dean nodded, pulling her into his side and leading her down the alleyway away from the hardware store and out toward the main street, "Yeah, well I guess I'm going to have to live with that."

The sound of feet pounding against the asphalt signified the arrival of Sam, who was breathing heavily and wearing an almost shell shocked expression. He opened his mouth to speak, and that was when the explosion occurred. The ground beneath their feet shook as the building they had exited only seconds ago folded in on itself. Flames licked hungrily at the darkened sky and it was with satisfaction that Dean imagined the dying whimpers of the hounds. He hoped they were sent straight back to hell with their tails between their legs.

Jo stared in horror at the building for a split second before attempting to wrench herself away from the Winchesters with seemingly renewed strength.

"Mom!" she screamed, her voice hoarse from the sheer toll the day had taken on her body. She was in agony now from the gash that the hellhound had ripped into her stomach, but she ignored the pain and fought against Dean regardless.

Struggling free of his hold on her, Jo stumbled back toward the store, her eyes widening as she took in the scene of utter devastation before her. Having taken only a few shaky steps, she sank to her knees, tears freely splashing down onto the ground beneath her.

Her desperate calls to her mother now became little more than heartbroken whispers as the realisation of Ellen's sacrifice became too much for her to bear.

"You should have let me stay," she shook her head slowly, her eyes eventually finding Dean's, "You should have let me stay."

Crouching down beside her, he cupped her cheek, his empty words of comfort dying instantly on his lips as he saw the haunted look that now lay behind her eyes. Dean faltered, trying desperately to think of something to say, yet nothing his exhausted brain could come up with sounded even remotely profound enough.

Jo turned her gaze toward the burning heap of wood and rubble and blinked as a solitary tear rolled down her cheek.

"Jo, I'm so sorry," Sam's voice finally broke the silence and she simply nodded in acknowledgement, starting visibly as she felt a pair of arms once again encircle her.

Dean almost winced as he pulled her closer, expecting her to struggle or hit out at him again, yet instead she clung to him, her hands gripping frantically at his jacket as he held her.

"I'll be damned if I'll ever let anything happen to you," he stated softly, pressing his cheek to the top of her head as he listened to her sobs.

"Dean, we need to get her to a hospital," Sam whispered, placing one hand on Dean's arm and gesturing towards the direction in which the Impala lay. "She's lost a lot of blood."

"She's gone…" Jo merely whispered, a strange, glazed expression now in place on her face. She looked pale, and her usually flaxen blonde hair was matted with sweat and blood.

"Can you walk?" Dean asked, struggling to even his tone out. He realised that he was frighteningly close to crumbling himself, an unacceptable option for a leader. When Jo failed to reply, he hoisted her up into his arms again, worried by the way she simply wilted against him. He had never seen the spirited young woman looking so utterly shattered before and his fears were escalating by the moment that she would simply choose to give up. After all, what did she truly have left to fight for?

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat; the one that had seemed permanently lodged there ever since he had watched the hell hound drag Jo to the ground. It was on her for no more than ten seconds before Ellen had come to her rescue. For a moment, it had looked like the two women would emerge from the fray unscathed until a second hound had joined the party. It had taken Ellen by surprise, the woman's attention clearly diverted by her concern for her fallen daughter. Dean had been too far away to react much more than to turn and observe the scene in horror. He had raised his shotgun, even gotten off a few rounds, but his efforts had been pathetic at best in his own mind. He would never forgive himself for being unable to do more.

Dean had made a vow to Ellen that he would look after Jo and he had every intention of making good on that promise, despite any resistance he might encounter from the sometimes argumentative blonde.

Whilst he would do all he could to honour Ellen's final request, he was now faced with the reality that perhaps his reasons for wanting to protect Jo were slightly more self-serving than he would have liked to admit; because somehow, somewhere along the way, he had fallen in love with her.

He was sure Sam knew, he had known Ellen harboured suspicions, but events had always stood in the way of him ever getting to act upon his feelings. Vacations to Hell, possessed brothers and averting the apocalypse were certainly good enough excuses in Dean's mind.

However, Dean was certain that making a declaration of love to Jo Harvelle probably took more courage than your average hunt, and he couldn't help being slightly relieved each time fate had thrown another road block between them.

"Dean, we gotta move," Sam said, his tone low and urgent as his gaze shifted to Jo, whose eyelids were beginning to flutter closed. Dean shook her slightly, his expression grim. He would not give up, and neither would he allow the woman in his arms to do so.

"Hold on Jo," he murmured, his lips brushing her ear lobe, "just hold on…"


	2. Chapter One

**A.N. – This fic is a collaboration between Silverspoon and WelshWitch1011. We would love for you to love us and leave us said love in the form of an ever-loving review :-)**

**Chapter One**

'_And now these three remain; faith, hope and love. But_

_The greatest of these is love' – Corinthians_

The vicious slamming of the Impala door was like a sucker punch to his gut, but Dean forced himself to remain calm in the face of this adversity. In reality, he had insisted on being the one to pick Jo up from the hospital upon her discharge, despite the fact that she had barely said two words to him since Carthage.

Dean had brought her flowers, a first for a Winchester man as far as he was aware, and had sat in silent vigil at her bedside as she slept. For the first few days the morphine had kept her in sedation but as her condition improved and her medication lessened, Jo was forced into unwelcome consciousness. Although she never said as much, it was clear that she was furious with the brothers and Dean in particular. He could hardly blame her and yet at the same time he was deflated.

He cast a glance in her direction, biting back a somewhat self-confident smile as he produced a tape from his jacket pocket and pushed it into the waiting jaws of the cassette deck. The strains of a power ballad instantly filled the air and he grinned to himself as he hummed along, drumming his hands on the steering wheel and nodding to the beat.

Jo reached toward the car stereo and stabbed irritably at the 'eject' button, leaning her arm on the side of the door as she tried to avert her gaze from the man beside her.

"Not in the mood for a little REO?" Dean arched an eyebrow, surprised and a little uneasy by her response.

"Not right now, no. " She answered curtly, sighing to herself as she tried to wind down the window, jarring the handle with her impatient and erratic movements. Dean gritted his teeth, wondering how much of her aggression the handle would take before it snapped off in her hand and he spent the next six months trawling old car yards for a replacement.

"Hey, uh... you wanna go easy on her there? She's an old lady, she responds to a gentler touch," he tried to make his tone nonplussed, but failed miserably.

Jo arched an eyebrow and shot Dean a look that he found near impossible to read. With a sigh, Dean swung the Impala out of the hospital parking lot and set out towards the motel that Sam had checked them into four days ago. It was the usual kind of dive; easy on the wallet but not so much on the eyes. The décor left a lot to be desired and seemed largely to cater for those who wished to rent by the hour. Sam and Dean shared a twin room, and had reserved the nicest single room available as soon as they had been informed by the hospital that Jo would be released. She had hardly seemed thrilled by the news, refusing to meet either Dean's gaze or enthusiastic smile.

Dean was unaccustomed to such reactions from Jo, who was generally flirtatious, fiery and great fun to be around. However, since Carthage she had withdrawn to a shadow of her former self. She no longer cried but somehow to Dean that seemed worse. Instead, she brooded, always silent in Sam's presence and petulant in his.

They came to a halt at an intersection where Dean spied a fast food restaurant; and if there was one thing he knew Jo loved more than 80's power ballads and kicking his ass, it was a deep pan, stuffed crust, pepperoni pizza with extra cheese, extra mushrooms and an unimaginable amount of jalapeno peppers. She was truly a woman after his own heart, and her healthy appetite for food and life in general were only two of the things he admired about her.

"You hungry? There's a pizza place over there," he nodded toward the restaurant and stole a glance in her direction, noting with growing concern just how pale and tired she looked.

Jo shook her head, resting her forehead against the cool glass of the window, "No."

"You should try eating something Jo," he attempted gently, reaching out to pat her hand and watching as she recoiled from his touch.

"Don't treat me like I'm a child, okay?" she snapped, muttering to herself as she shook her head in annoyance.

"Then maybe stop acting like one!" He regretted his hasty retort before the words had even left his lips and he cringed inwardly as he watched her lean further away from him, her eyes narrowed in blatant fury.

"I'm sorry. Jo... I'm sorry," he licked his lips and sighed, wondering if any response would have actually avoided provoking her apparently deep seated rage. Her reactions to him lately had been explosive to say the least and it appeared that every little thing he said or did caused her offense.

She paused momentarily, as if debating whether or not to cut him some slack, "You don't need to worry about me, Dean. I can take care of myself."

"I made a promise to your Mom," Dean said, his voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "I intend to keep it, whether you want me to or not."

The loss of Ellen had affected them all deeply; from he and Sam to Bobby and even Castiel. The group was in mourning for the resilient, intelligent and caring woman who had offered them all sanctuary and guidance at some point- usually when they had deserved it the least.

Dean was no idiot, and he had already identified the route of Jo's rage as the fact that he had been the one to pull her away from her mother. It was an action that he could not bring himself to regret, no matter how bitter Jo became towards him. She was alive because of him, and Dean was glad.

"Well, Mom's dead," Jo said in a tone that was surprisingly blunt and devoid of the sorrowful tinge Dean had expected.

Dean was thankful for the pause the next intersection allowed, leaning his elbow on the door he nodded in sad agreement.

"Your Mom was a great lady, she was the best... " he began, suddenly wishing he could find the eloquence Sam nearly always possessed on such occasions. Witty retorts and suggestive banter were his own sorry specialities and neither were even remotely appropriate.

She interrupted him before he could continue, "I really don't want to talk about this now."

Jo fidgeted in her seat, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a deep, steadying breath and tried to fight back the tears she felt pricking at her eyes.

"We gotta talk about it sometime, Jo," he said gently, willing to grant her time if that was what she needed; however, too many things had gone unspoken between them for far too long.

"_I'm not sorry_."

Jo folded her arms across her chest in an undeniably defensive gesture and rose to the bait, rolling her eyes at both him and her own curiosity, "For what?"

"I'm not sorry for what I did, Jo. Hell, I'd do it again if I had to. You can hate me if you want, but I'm not sorry for carrying you out of there," he blew out a long, unsteady breath, "I made a promise to Ellen and... and I wasn't going to lose you."

Jo remained silent, her eyes trained on the horizon although there was nothing there of real interest to hold her attention. There was a time when the prospect of Dean Winchester looking at her as more than an infuriating little sister would have thrilled her. She recalled the night before they had left for Carthage, when the group had collected at Bobby's to drink, play poker and generally unwind before the impending apocalypse. Dean had propositioned her then, feeding her some shameful line about 'their last prospective night on earth'. Jo had shot him down fast, wanting to hold onto her dignity should that be true but, above all, she refused to be reduced to a simple notch on Dean Winchester's bedpost. Jo had wanted to mean something- really mean something the way her mother had to her father all those years ago.

"Here we are," Dean murmured, pulling the Impala into a decidedly empty motel parking lot. He reversed into a vacant spot before killing the engine and then turning to gaze at Jo. Despite the heat of midday, Jo wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.

"You sure you're not hungry?" Dean probed, preparing himself for Jo's wrath. To his surprise, she attempted to offer him a smile; it was tight and evidently forced, but Dean was heartened just a little by the gesture.

"No…" she replied, adding as an afterthought, "thank you."

Dean nodded, relieved to have finally received something that resembled a half-way civil response. They simultaneously unclipped their seatbelts and Dean stepped out of the car, striding to the trunk where he lifted Jo's meagre bag of belongings from atop an arsenal of weaponry. He skirted around the car as Jo gingerly opened the door and extended a helping hand. Jo winced as the motion tugged at the sutures to her side and once standing, she took a moment to gather herself.

The sensation of Dean's hand squeezing her own pulled her from her reverie and she found herself staring back into his impossibly green eyes.

"You okay?" he checked, his eyebrow arched as he regarded her worriedly, as if she were fragile and vulnerable, like a china doll he was afraid would break.

Jo hated to be made to feel inferior to a guy, no matter what the motivation behind it, yet somehow the concern she found in his eyes was comforting. It made her believe that perhaps she wasn't entirely alone in the world now if somebody cared about her. The nagging voice in the back of her mind told her it was merely through a sense of duty, yet she found herself still hoping that it might mean something more. The 'old Jo' had always been a cock-eyed optimist.

"Yeah, I'm okay," she nodded, trying to rationalise her feelings and yet still finding the sadness in her heart overwhelming, "I don't... I don't hate you, Dean."

He smiled briefly at her admission, obviously relieved, but he knew this was neither the time nor the place for any further discussions. Jo needed to heal, both physically and mentally. It could wait. Besides, he wasn't going anywhere.

"Come on, let's get you inside," he suggested, closing the car door behind her and walking faithfully at her side as he led her to her room.

Jo smiled self-consciously as they climbed the stairs, her stomach suddenly emitting an indignant growl. Three days of hospital food hadn't managed to coax her appetite to reappear and though she had denied it before, she was starting to feel the undeniable pangs of hunger.

"Hey Dean, do you think that pizza place delivers?" She smiled shyly, chewing on her bottom lip as they came to a stop outside her room and, for the first time in several days, a little colour flushed across her cheeks.

"Fairly sure they don't," Dean answered, a smile spreading across his face, "but I can run out and get one. The usual?"

Jo nodded, chewing on her bottom lip and she watched as Dean opened the door to the neighbouring motel room. The sounds of the television set on low drifted into the corridor and Jo peered inside the room, her interest peaked. Sam sat in an easy chair, his arms folded as he watched some black and white foreign artsy flick that had subtitles. Jo grimaced and shot a look at Dean.

"Thought you may want to hang with Sammy whilst I go grab the pizza," he offered, watching Jo's expression become horrified.

"Right…" she muttered, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the TV as she added, "but do I really have to put up with that crap?"

"This is a great movie," Sam protested, a blush blooming on his cheeks at being discovered with one of his guilty pleasures. Sam had a real appreciation for foreign arts films that had blossomed during his college days. He rarely admitted this to anyone, especially not Dean who would only have filed that titbit away for later use as ammunition.

Dean's eyebrows shot up but he appeared to be biting his own tongue in an effort to contain a snarky comeback. Sam watched Dean leave without a word, pleasantly surprised by his brother's sudden self-restraint. He knew that it was for Jo's benefit rather than his own, but nonetheless he was suitably impressed.

"So, how are you feeling?" Sam shut off the television and walked toward Jo, nervously rubbing his hands against the leg of his jeans before deciding just to jam them in his pockets. He hoped that gesture appeared calm and casual, because truth be told, he had no idea what to say to her.

Jo shrugged and perched herself on the edge of one of the single beds, rolling her neck and attempting to find a more comfortable position that didn't pull on her sutures.

"Better," she allowed, "still a little sore."

Sam nodded, sitting down in a chair opposite and peering around the room as he tried desperately to find something to fill the gaping silence.

"So, is my brother driving you crazy yet? He can get a little... smothering."

Sam instantly regretted his topic of conversation. There was clearly some underlying tension between Dean and Jo and given Jo's volatile mood lately, he was a little afraid of her response. Movies. He should have stuck to talking about movies.

Jo pressed her lips together into a fine line that was so tight all colour drained from them. Sam mentally berated himself for his own stupidity and continued to watch Jo for signs of the impending explosion he was sure was coming. However, after a few moments, she released her breath in a rush and her shoulders slumped a little.

"He's trying to be helpful I guess," she answered, struggling to maintain a neutral tone, "he made Mom a promise, right?"

Sam nodded, unsure as to where the conversation was headed. He found that he was no more comfortable with Jo's moroseness than he was with her anger, and was wishing that he had been the one to volunteer to make the pizza run. He really hoped that Dean would bring beer too. They could undoubtedly all use a drink after the events of the last week.

"He cares about you," Sam managed after a pause. He knew that his words would mean little to Jo in the face of her grief and he also suspected that they grossly undermined Dean's true feelings for the woman. He was aware however that those feelings were Dean's to disclose if and when he saw fit. Sam truly hoped that he would, and soon, because when Dean was in Jo's presence lately, he seemed different. His focus shifted and for the first time in his thirty years, Dean acted as though something other than his brother and hunting mattered to him. The walls were crumbling with Jo around and Sam was hopeful that if she chose to stay, she could bring them down altogether.

Jo laughed softly and rolled her eyes, picking at the dressing on her side. "Yeah, I'm the little sister he never wanted."

Sam raised both eyebrows and couldn't help the thoroughly amused chuckle that reverberated from his chest. He wasn't sure if she was serious, but the confused expression he received in reply of his laughter told him she most probably was.

He leaned back in his chair and tried to shake the incredulous smile from his face. Yes, Dean teased Jo, but Dean did that to most people. Yes, he frequently provoked her, but Sam supposed that there were few people who had met Dean Winchester and hadn't at some point felt the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. Even angels had not proved an exception to that rule.

"Jo, uh... I don't think Dean thinks of you that way," he felt uncomfortable discussing his brother's feelings. Especially since it usually took half a bottle of Jack Daniels and a life or death situation before said brother was even remotely prepared to discuss his emotions. It felt like a betrayal somehow and though Sam would have been happy to play matchmaker to a less explosive pair, the idea of getting in the middle of a Dean and Jo blowout made him nervous.

"No, I'm a responsibility," Jo stated, all previous optimism gone, "and nobody's real keen on those."

"You're more than that," Sam insisted, seating himself at Jo's side on the bed now and tentatively taking her hand in his own. She stiffened but did not draw back from Sam's touch. "You're family Jo."

"Please Sam," Jo muttered, shaking her head and gnawing at her bottom lip as she deliberated his words. "You and Dean are family. I'm alone. I gotta get used to that now."

"You'll never be alone," Sam promised, his brow furrowing as Jo's thoughts came tumbling out. He was more than a little shocked that she believed the Winchester's would simply leave her to fend for herself.

"You guys know what it's like to lose both your parents," Jo said slowly, her gaze downcast but her expression far from self-pitying, "but at least you have each other."

"There are a lot of people that love you," Sam continued, cupping Jo's chin with his hand and forcing her gaze to meet his. He saw both pain and fear reflected in her eyes, and not a single solution presented itself in his mind. "There's me, Bobby, Cas… Dean… we're all here whenever you need us."

Jo stood from the bed and wandered without purpose around the room, pausing to peer out of the window. She released a heavy hearted sigh and turned back to face him.

"I'm not really sure what I need right now, you know?" she toyed with the bottom of her tank top, "I guess I haven't had a chance to process things yet. I still can't believe she's gone."

All Sam could do was nod sympathetically. The sound of Dean's unmistakable heavy footfalls on the stairs was a welcome interruption. Dean opened the door with his usual flourish, pizza boxes stacked in his arms.

"Alright kids, we got the chef's special for you, madamoiselle," he deposited a box carefully on the table next to Jo and proceeded to hand another pizza box to his brother with an unmasked expression of disdain. "There's the veggie option, princess."

It wasn't merely Sam's choice in movies that left Dean despairing of his younger sibling. To Dean, putting vegetables on a pizza was an act of sacrilege. In his mind, pizza should be good and greasy and loaded with everything that was nutritionally defunct. Anything green or healthy defeated the object. Sam stared askance at the two remaining boxes piled in Dean's arms.

"Are you seriously going to eat two pizzas?" Sam inquired, a smile flitting across his lips as he regarded the eager expression spread across Dean's face.

"Sure am," was the reply. Sam nodded and opened his pizza box, removing a ring of pepper from the top and nibbling at it. Dean, meanwhile, tore into the first box he placed on the bed and began devouring a thick slice of pizza with gusto, hardly noticing the greasy cheese that dripped onto the bed sheet. Jo remained standing at the window, gazing out across the car lot with a faraway air about her.

"Pizza's getting cold Jo," Dean said encouragingly, shooting the woman a smile as she glanced at him. Jo nodded her acknowledgement but made no move towards her lunch. Dean's heart sank. It seemed a definite case of one step forwards and one mile backwards with Jo at the moment. He was at a loss now as to what he could do to coax her back to her old ways. He wished he held an easy cure for her heartache and for a brief second, he contemplated calling Cas for some advice. However, he knew that Jo would not appreciate having her emotions toyed with simply because they weren't real convenient to the apocalypse. She had already been through enough without adding to the list the betrayal of having her mind violated.

"I can hear your arteries clogging from here," Sam grimaced, watching Dean pursue a long string of cheese that appeared to be trying to escape from the top of the over-laden pizza.

Dean waggled his eyebrows and stared with a strange sort of adoration at his lunch, "Yeah, but what a way to go. It's like little slices of greasy heaven."

They exchanged panicked glances as Dean mulled over his choice of words and he hastily dropped the slice of pizza back into the box, rubbing his hands on the front of his jeans as he stood up. Sam rolled his eyes; classy Dean, real classy.

"Anyone want a soda?" Dean crossed the room and fished in a brown paper bag, producing three cans of root beer that he opened and offered to first his brother and then Jo.

She mouthed her quiet thanks and continued to stare out of the window. Dean squinted against the sunlight and followed her gaze, finding that her attention had been captured by a mother and daughter splashing around in the motel pool.

"At least drink something, okay?" he said softly, pressing a root beer into her hand and curling her fingers gently around the soda can. His eyes scanned her face before he impulsively pressed a kiss to her forehead and then returned to his seat.

Jo blinked in surprise before raising the can to her lips and taking a small sip. Dean nodded his approval before downing most of the contents of his can in one gulp.

"So what's the next step then?" Jo asked, finally tearing her gaze away from the scene outside and stepping into the centre of the room. She ran the tip of her finger across the lid of her pizza box but made no move to actually retrieve the food from inside. Instead, she busied herself with tracing the initials of the pizza parlour over and over again.

"I figure we'll stay around in town for a few days, let you get rested up, and then maybe head back to Bobby's," Dean said, deliberating his words carefully before he uttered them. "I guess once we're at Bobby's, we'll go from there."

"I have plans," Jo blurted, looking as surprised herself by the revelation as either of the boys did. Dean arched an eyebrow, his eyes trained unwaveringly on Jo as she set her soda down on the table. She turned to face him directly, awaiting a reaction that did not come for several strained seconds.

"Ok," Dean said, drawing the word out as he struggled to find suitable others to accompany it. "Anything we can help with?"

"I'd rather do what I have to do alone, thanks," murmured Jo, her eyes on Dean's features and the conflicting emotions that were washing over them. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with the flat of his hand.

"Jo, you're lucky to be alive," he said pointedly, his gaze ticking to the bandage that peaked out from beneath the hem of her tank top. "You just got out of the hospital, you had surgery three days ago… I'm not real eager to let you alone right now."

"You don't really have a choice Dean," Jo replied, although her tone was far from hostile. "I have to get out there on my own sooner or later."

"Then let's make it later," Dean countered, shooting a significant glance at Sam. "Help me out here Sammy."

Sam swallowed his mouthful of root beer and nodded in agreement, hastily wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "Well, yeah. I mean, we're family Jo. Families stick together."

Jo sat down heavily in one of the vacant chairs and slid her hands absently up her arms.

"You can't just pick up and leave, Jo," Dean was standing now, beginning to pace the floor next to the bed he had previously been sitting on.

"Why not?" she countered, her temper suddenly igniting as Dean became more and more anxious.

"Because..." Dean faltered, pausing as he tried to formulate a logical argument, but his emotions had clearly gotten the better of him.

"Just... because," he spat helplessly, rubbing his forehead where a major headache was now brewing. If he lived to be a hundred, Dean didn't think he'd ever understand women; especially this particular woman.

"What, because you _say so_?" she cocked her head to the side and arched an eyebrow at him in a challenging manner.

Dean was too incensed and entirely confused to be able to argue rationally. Her disregard for her own life shocked him. "Yeah, damn it," he all too readily agreed, "I told your Mom I'd look out for you, Jo."

Her voice was raised now, her tone becoming more and more caustic by the second. "Yeah, well I told my Mom we'd go to Vegas for Mother's Day. I guess plans change, Dean."

"Guys?" Sam stood between them, having endured the verbal tennis match for long enough. He held up his hands as they suddenly starting talking simultaneously. "Guys?" he tried again, finally whistling through his fingers to get their attention.

"What?" they demanded in perfect unison, both rounding on Sam as though he were somehow responsible for their disagreement.

Sam held up his hands in front of his body in a placating gesture and glanced from his brother to Jo and back again.

"Maybe we should discuss this tomorrow. No one has to make any decisions right now," Sam reasoned, his calm voice seeming to have no effect on Jo.

"My decision is made Sam," Jo replied, her tone growing icy. She gathered her discarded jacket into her arms and moved towards the door of the motel room, her movements less fluid than usual.

"Jo…" Dean called, his body tensing as Jo turned to regard him, her hand poised on the door handle. "What about your pizza?"

Jo shot an uninterested look at the pizza box, which stood untouched still on the table.

"I lost my appetite," she spat, turning on her heel and flouncing through the now open door without another word.

Dean groaned and sank into the easy chair, hiding his face in his hands as despair overwhelmed him. He was determined to make Jo see reason, even if she proved to be the death of him.

As the door to the neighbouring motel room closed with a vicious slam, Dean realised that prospect was looking increasingly likely.


	3. Chapter Two

**A.N. – This fic is a collab between Silverspoon and WelshWitch1011. We are like Tinkerbell; we need reviews to live. Please spare a moment to leave one. **

**Chapter Two**

Women were infuriating creatures. This was a fact that John Winchester had tried repeatedly to drum into his sons over the years. Sam had believed his father's reasoning to be flawed to say the least, having found not only a lover in Jess but also a best friend with whom he could share most things. Meanwhile, Dean, ever the agreeable son and with a string of exes to his name, had only found truth in the warning.

In the case of Joanna Harvelle, Dean was damn near on the verge of tying her to a chair and allowing her to suffer her apparent mental break down whilst he maintained a safe distance. When it was over, and her sanity had returned, he may even consider untying her.

The Winchester brothers had been arguing for almost an hour now and both were aware that they were covering little new ground. The disagreement simply moved in circles with neither of the men prepared to back down.

"You need to give her some space Dean," Sam reiterated, rolling his eyes as he wondered how else he could drive his point home. He had been repeating this warning to Dean for the last half hour but his pigheaded brother down-right refused to heed his words.

"The hell I do, Sammy," retorted Dean, slamming his balled up hand down in frustration on the empty can that sat on the table before him. The metal yielded to the weight of his fist and crumpled into a flat disk that at any other time Dean would have found impressive.

"If you don't, you'll only push her further away," Sam continued, struggling to prevent his voice from rising again as it had done at least several times during the course of the disagreement.

Jo had remained in her room and had not emerged even for dinner. After hammering on the door for a fruitless ten minutes, Dean had even gone so far as to peer through the window from the parking lot. Jo had drawn the curtains however, and Dean returned to their motel room in a foul mood. Sam knew that his brother's actions were only a direct consequence of his concern, but he wished that Dean would take a moment to evaluate how his behaviour would look to Jo. Instead of seeing a man who could offer her comfort and sanctuary during her time of greatest need, Jo was undoubtedly perceiving Dean as nothing more than a hard-headed control freak, hell bent on getting her to tow the proverbial line where ever he saw fit to draw it.

"You know, you could just tell her how you feel about her," Sam suggested, watching an expression of panic flash across his brothers features.

Dean shook his head dismissively, picking up the corpse of the soda can and scrunching it further in his fist as his mind raced to find him some way out of the current topic of conversation.  
"What? I... let's just stay on track here, okay 'Hitch'?" he frowned disapprovingly at Sam and passed the can back and forth between his hands.

Dean wondered when his brother had suddenly become an authority on women and why he was taking such an interest in his love life. An interest Dean found disconcerting and wholly unwelcome.

"Whatever, Dean," Sam's boredom and exasperation were evident, "but if she knew that your well meaning yet hideously heavy footed concern was actually because you were in love with her, she might be a little more receptive, that's all I'm saying."

Dean laughed in abject horror, his expression changing swiftly between amusement and fear, "What... I mean, who... who says I'm in love with her?" his eyes narrowed and he swallowed hard. "And that's uh, that's not something that's uh, you know. Shut up!"

Sam smiled as he watched his brother flounder helplessly. A speechless Dean Winchester didn't happen very often, but when it did, it was a joy for his long suffering sibling to behold.

"Talk to her Dean, tell her the truth," Sam said, hiding a smirk as he added, "unless you're too scared."

"I am not scared," Dean snapped, his mouth dropping open as he realised his blunder. "And there's nothing to talk about right now. That girl just lost her Mom. The last thing she needs is me drooling on her shoes."

"I thought you weren't admitting anything?" Sam pressed, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Bitch," Dean grumbled, folding his arms and turning away from Sam wearing as much of a furious expression as he could muster. "She's staying here. Case closed."

"Well good luck convincing her on that one," Sam replied, rolling his eyes and sinking back onto the pillows of his bed. They were hard and lumpy but by no means the worst that Sam had slept on. He turned and began to punch them into submission, clearly taking his frustration on his brother out on the bedding.

Sam groaned and lifted his head, hearing Dean striding purposefully across the room. He was surprised to find him poised by the door, jacket in hand.

"Dean, where are you going?" Sam demanded, his brow furrowing as he watched Dean open the door.

"I'm going to straighten this mess out, that's where I'm going," Dean barked, first putting on his jacket and then shrugging it off, before he finally flung it across the room onto his bed and stormed out.

"Great. Just great," Sam sighed, dropping back against the mattress and closing his eyes as his head found a welcome indent in the pillow.

He figured he'd leave them be for the moment. The walls were thin enough that he would hear should the need for intervention arise. For now though, he was going to take a nap. Older brothers were exhausting.

x-x-x

Dean paused outside the door of Jo's motel room and took in a deep, steadying breath. In the next instant, he raised his fist and tapped gently on the frame, hoping that this time Jo would choose to answer.

Just to be sure, Dean called out softly, "Jo, it's Dean. Could I talk to you for a minute… please?"

For a moment there was nothing but silence from the other side of the door, but after a minute had elapsed Dean heard the clear sound of the key being twisted in the lock. He blinked in surprise, wondering why Jo had felt the necessity to lock her door in the first place. He had never known her to be so cautious in the pas,t but he supposed that the events of Carthage would have had some effect on her character.

The door swung open, revealing Jo wearing a nightshirt and bathrobe. Dean swallowed hard and Jo pulled the robe tighter around her body.

"Sorry to disturb you," Dean murmured, licking his lips and gesturing behind Jo. "Could I maybe come in?"

"Sure," Jo said, stepping aside with a sigh and allowing Dean to enter.

The room was in darkness, save for the table lamp that glowed dimly from its perch on the desk at the side of the bed. The sheets were rumpled as though Jo had been nestled within them, but Dean knew even without asking that she had not been sleeping.

He closed the door behind him with a gentle click and waited for Jo to sit down before he pulled up a chair by the side of the bed she had chosen to perch on.

Jo pulled the sides of her robe even closer together and appeared to shiver, adjusting her leg underneath her body as she sat cross legged in the centre of her bed.  
"It's late, Dean" she glanced at the digital display of the clock on the nightstand and hoped he would take her cue to get off his chest whatever it was that was clearly bothering him, then leave her to sleep. Not that she slept well these days, her dreams were haunted by images of Carthage; of her mother's face, bloodied and pale as they said their final goodbyes.

Dean nodded and opened his mouth to speak, pausing as the sound of the couple in the neighboring room engaged in a heated argument, could clearly be heard.  
"Wow, these walls are thin."

His off-hand remark made Jo smile slightly and she simply stared down at the bed covers, beginning to trace patterns over the garishly hued throw.

"Yeah, they are," she agreed, lifting her gaze after a few moments of silence. A subtle blush overcame her cheeks and she quickly averted her eyes to her robe from which she began to pick imaginary lint.

Dean's heart sank as he caught the inference behind Jo's words. His palms became clammy and he rubbed them frantically on the legs of his pants.

"So what can I do for you Dean?" Jo pressed, stifling a yawn with her hand and wincing as the gesture of raising her arm tugged at her wound.

"You ok?" Dean asked, his features a mask of concern as he regarded Jo. She nodded, reached to the nightstand, retrieved a bottle of prescription pills, and popped one into her mouth. She gulped as she dry swallowed the meds before returning her attention to Dean.

"I… uh… I just wanted to talk about us… not us, I mean, cos well…" Dean groaned inwardly at his own ineloquence and desperately attempted to salvage the remnants of his own dignity. "What I mean is… Jo, can we please talk about your plans?"

"What about them?" Jo asked, stiffening as Dean touched on a subject that she was uncomfortable with to say the least.

"Please reconsider," Dean began, pausing to reach across from his seat and enclose Jo's hand within his own. She made no move to recoil from his touch but Dean could see that she was no longer as at ease in his presence as she once was.

"Stay with me and Sammy," Dean continued, searching Jo's face with his gaze for any signs of weakness that he could use to his advantage. "There's plenty of room in the Impala, and we could use an extra pair of hands on a hunt. You'd be doing us a favour."

"Please don't treat me like an idiot Dean," Jo murmured, her voice soft and tone sorrowful.

Dean shook his head and pressed his other hand over the top of hers, trapping her smaller hand between his own as he implored her to listen.  
"I'm being honest, Jo. I'm just telling you the truth here. It's got nothing to do with your Mom or because I don't think you can take care of yourself...or even because we could use your help."

Jo smiled slightly and rolled her eyes in playful disdain, "You always need my help, Dean."

Dean grinned, his heart warmed to see her smile again, even if it faded from her lips as quickly as it had appeared.

"I want you there with me..." he stammered, "with us. I want you there with _us_. We're a team, like... like the Three Musketeers."

He smiled charmingly, hoping to win her over. Jo sighed and prepared to think over his proposition.

"You're really sure about this?" she checked, referencing their volatile history together.

Dean chuckled and squeezed her hand affectionately, "You're a total pain in the ass. But, you're my pain in the ass."

"Thanks," Jo replied, shaking her head at Dean but with an expression of amusement spread across her face.

"Tell me you'll at least consider it," pleaded Dean, an edge of desperation to his voice.

Jo took a deep breath and, closing her eyes, finally nodded. "Count me in."

"You won't regret it," Dean replied in a rush, his eyes dancing with excitement and also a little relief. Jo held up one hand for silence before Dean could continue, and he frowned as he awaited the list of conditions that was evidently to follow.

"But I still have something I need to take care of first," Jo stated, deliberately skirting around the nature of her intended plan. Dean regarded her for a moment, attempting to glean some small sense as to what unfinished business Jo referred to.

"I can meet you at Bobby's once I'm done," she vowed, and Dean knew that over this at least, she was telling the truth. However, that fact alone did little to calm the nerves that arose when he thought about Jo, still vulnerable and wounded, striking out on her own.

"I know I'm a pushy son of a bitch sometimes," he began, frowning as she giggled at his admission.  
"Sometimes?" she teased, her smile growing wider as Dean arched an eyebrow in a silent plea to be allowed to continue.

Jo breathed a quiet 'sorry' and waited expectantly for him to finish his sentence.  
Dean did not continue and instead allowed his eyes to linger over her face. For a moment he considered how things could have been so very different back in Carthage.

"Dean?" Jo craned her head to catch his attention, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," he nodded, suddenly sitting up straight and patting her hand, "get some sleep, okay?"

Jo's brow furrowed. She was fairly certain that Dean had not intended to end their conversation at that point. He suddenly seemed on edge, strangely spooked, although she guessed that was a fairly typical reaction for Dean Winchester when there was the possibility that feelings may imminently be discussed.

Dean stood up and ran his hand through his hair, trying to ignore the deeply confused expression playing on Jo's face as he ushered her under the covers then proceeded to pull the blankets up over her.

A photograph of Ellen suddenly caught his attention on the nightstand and he picked it up solemnly, peering down at the beaming faces of a young Ellen and an infant Jo. Bill was glaringly absent from the picture, and Dean assumed that much of Jo's childhood had passed him by; that was the sacrifice a Hunter made, after all. The job came first, family second. Sometimes Dean let himself believe it could be different.

"You've got her smile," he observed, replacing the photograph onto the nightstand. Jo glanced sideways at the photograph and nodded, tears flooding her eyes as she stared at all she had left of her beloved mother.  
"You think so?" she asked quietly, suddenly pressing her hand to her face as grief overcame her.

"You're not alone Jo," Dean said, slowly and reassuringly. Jo nodded, chewing on her bottom lip to prevent a cascade of tears. She had never cried so much or so hard as she had done the last few days since losing her mother. The saddest thing to Jo was that she had never truly realised just how her world had revolved around the woman, until it was too late.

"You'll never be alone as long as I'm breathing," promised Dean, averting his gaze from Jo and beginning to walk back towards the door of the motel room. "Goodnight Jo. See you in the morning."

Jo did not reply but she listened as the door of her room closed, and Dean could be heard retreating to his own. She replayed his words in her head, amazed that she had actually born witness to Dean Winchester emoting. Settling back against her pillows, Jo allowed her tiredness to overwhelm her as she turned her conversation with Dean over again and again in her mind.

That night, Jo dreamed once again of Carthage, of the unearthly snarls of hell hounds, and of the face of the woman who had loved her more than life itself.


	4. Chapter Three

**A.N. – This fiction is a collaboration between Silverspoon and WelshWitch1011. We never look a review-horse in the mouth. **

**Chapter Three**

Leaving in the cover of darkness was not typically her style, but Jo knew that this was the only way she could hope to lose the Winchesters for just a couple of days of personal space. Renting a car had not been a problem given the fact that her mother's credit card was still active and luckily for her, the rental place was no more than a five minute walk from the motel; Jo was now the proud, temporary owner of a brand new navy blue Ford Taurus. It was not her first choice of vehicle, but Jo had decided to simply enjoy what would probably be her last opportunity behind the wheel of a car for a very long time. She was fairly certain that Dean rarely allowed even Sammy to drive his sacred Impala, she suspected that he would rather be mauled by a werewolf than allow Jo the opportunity.

The doctors had advised Jo against any strenuous physical activity until at least a couple of weeks after her surgery, but Jo knew that if she did not make her escape soon, then she would end up with Dean riding her ass all the way back to the old Roadhouse. He had made it more than clear that he was not keen to allow Jo out of his sight and, whilst she found his concern touching, Jo's patience was fast wearing thin.

She knew that Dean had only her best interests at heart, and yet his sudden overprotective streak was becoming hard to bear. Jo could tell that Sam had also grown frustrated by Dean's attempts at mothering her, but wisely he had chosen to keep his thoughts on the matter to himself.

Flicking on the radio for company, Jo leaned back against her seat and sighed. The highway ahead was deserted, probably due to the fact that dawn had broken just a little over an hour ago. Stifling a yawn, she focused her gaze upon the horizon and tried in vain not to think about the reason she was making this trip in the first place.

A commercial ended on the radio station, heralding the unmistakable guitar riff of an AC/DC song and a small smile briefly crossed Jo's lips.

There was no doubt about it that Dean had been acting strangely and entirely out of character since Carthage, but she had assumed it had been due to some other emotion; anger, fear, guilt, or perhaps even the low after such an adrenaline rush. She had never expected it to be about her or more to the point, about them.

The conversation she had overheard the night before had left her reeling and she still had yet to really process her own feelings on the matter. There had always been a spark between the two of them, she knew that much, but could Dean actually love her? Be _in love_ with her?  
Whatever Dean felt, Jo had long ago realised that despite his argumentative, stubborn, immature and irrational ways, she loved him anyway. In some instances, she even loved him for them. She wasn't blind to his faults, but they were insignificant in comparison to the strength of character, loyalty and good heart that she knew he possessed.

But many women had fallen for Dean Winchester and she was determined not to join the ranks of his previous flames. She had to be sure this was not just a knee jerk reaction to recent events.

Banishing all thoughts of Dean from her mind, Jo reached out and turned the radio off. The music cut out abruptly and Jo settled back against her seat, content to drive in silence once again. Now was definitely not the time to be contemplating romance when she would need all of her resolve and strength to simply get through the next twenty four hours.

Without even glancing at the road signs, Jo knew that she was little over twenty miles away from the old Roadhouse now. She swallowed hard, daunted by her impending task but, nonetheless, Jo pressed her foot against the gas pedal and continued on her way towards her childhood home.

x-x-x

Sam was wrenched from slumber by strong hands that gripped and shook him hard. He grumbled something that he was aware was wholly incoherent, and swatted at his assailant sleepily.

"Get your ass out of bed Sammy," Dean practically yelled, shoving his face mere inches away from Sam's own. Sam's eyes flashed open and he shot his brother an irritated glare.

"What the hell Dean?" he demanded, staring into his brother's face which had adopted an almost frantic look. "There better be something fugly chewing your foot off or…"

"Jo's gone," Dean snarled, no longer in the mood for jokes on account of his abject panic. Sam blinked, evidently surprised, and after wrenching himself from Dean's grip, he sat up.

"Gone?" he repeated slowly, as though having trouble processing the meaning behind the word.

"Yes," Dean hissed, running one hand through his hair and beginning to pace the length of the bedroom, "absent, missing, not present… G-O-N-E!"

Sam rubbed his hand over his face and tried to shake the last vestiges of sleep.  
"Well, I don't know Dean, maybe she needs a little time to herself."

Dean looked at him incredulously and shook his head at his clearly clueless sibling.  
"No, no, she doesn't! Now get your ass out of bed so we can go after her."

"I don't think I'm comfortable with that, Dean," Sam replied in what could only be termed a snooty manner, "Jo's a grown woman, if she wants to take off and go do- whatever, I'm not gonna try and stop her."

Sam yawned and reached toward the nightstand to glance at his watch. He was both surprised and a little irritated to note that it was barely seven am. Usually Dean was the last of the brothers to rise, preferring never to wake before nine, provided there was no pressing business at hand. Giving Dean a quick once over, Sam took in his unusually crumpled clothing and the dark stubble that peppered his jaw, and wondered if Dean had actually slept a wink that night.

Dean's jaw set in anger as he demanded, "Hey, princess, just for a second, could you stop being a damn woman about this?"

"And could you stop being such a control freak?" Sam replied, leaning up on his elbows and glaring in an accusatory manner at Dean. The tension between the two was near palpable and they continued to stare at each other through narrowed eyes that mirrored annoyance.

"Control freak?" Dean spluttered, outraged by the very implication. Sam opened his arms wide and nodded.

"If the shoe fits Dean," he retorted, rubbing at his bleary eyes now with balled up fists. Dean grabbed Sam's jeans from the back of the easy chair and slung them across the room at his brother. Sam deftly plucked the pants from the air before they smacked him square in the face but was not quite quick enough to catch the plaid flannel shirt that Dean tossed after them. The bunched up shirt hit Sam in the nose before dropping onto the duvet before him. Sam frowned, refusing to concede so much as an inch to Dean's demands. Dean was being ridiculous and Sam resolved not to budge even a millimetre until he recognised that fact.

"Would you get dressed already?" Dean pressed, his voice rising in pitch as his irritation grew by the second.

Sam shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest; the accompanying gestures making him look uncannily like a sullen child. Dean arched a dark eyebrow, his expression incredulous. For just a moment he was catapulted back to their childhood. Sammy had quite frequently taken to pitching fits similar to this one when he either did not get his own way or believed he was being treated unfairly, which had seemed to Sam to be most of the time. Sam had always been a sulker, which had actually seemed to infuriate John Winchester even more than Dean's penchant for back talk.

"Do I have to leave your ass here?" Dean threatened, all too aware that he was now beginning to bear an uncanny resemblance to John in both tone and mannerisms. It was a disconcerting consideration but one that Dean pushed away for the moment as he attempted to convince Sam of his seriousness.

"Please do," answered Sam, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he flopped back against his pillows and covered his face with his palms. Sometimes, being on the road with Dean could be utterly wearing. He would almost welcome the break, although he thoroughly pitied Jo once Dean eventually managed to catch up with her. Sam had no doubt that Dean was planning on reading her the riot act for this one.

"Am I the only one who sees what a monumentally stupid idea Jo's little lone road trip is?" Dean demanded, shaking his head as he regarded Sam, who in his opinion was far too nonchalant on the matter.

"Dean, calm down," Sam placated, "You're being... weird."  
He wasn't sure he had ever seen his brother quite so worked up over anything before, and Dean's mood swings were now genuinely starting to worry Sam.

"Weird?" Dean paced the floor again like a caged tiger and shot his brother an irritated glare.

"Would you just get dressed!" he yelled, his heart now pounding furiously in his chest.

Sam grimaced, "No. Not unless you tell me what's going on with you. I've never seen you like this before Dean and... you're kind of freaking me out."

"Get dressed, I'll be waiting in the car," Dean snarled, his patience rapidly fraying.

Pig-headedness was definitely a Winchester trait, and one of the less favourable ones at that.

Dean marched to the door and suddenly paused, his jaw clenched as Sam's voice rang out again.

"Not until you tell me what this is really about," Sam was calm and the pensive expression he wore conveyed only his concern for his brother.

Dean remained facing the door, unwilling to meet Sam's gaze. He blinked against an unfamiliar smarting in his eyes and attempted to take a steadying breath.

"Dean?"

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head bitterly, "Because I watched that hell hound almost rip her to shreds and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about it."

Sam remained unmoving, simply watching Dean as he appeared to almost crumple. Clearly, the events of the last week had shaken him and, as much as he attempted to gloss over this fact with his cocksure smile, Dean was afraid.

"Dean, Carthage wasn't your fault," Sam attempted, although his voice came out sounding tight and unfamiliar even to him.

If truth be told, Sam had been blaming himself just a little for going after Lucifer with ill-equipped guns blazing and ultimately getting Ellen killed. He knew that it was an event that neither of the brothers were ever likely to fully recover from, and certainly Jo's life would be forever marred by it. Sam had refused to think about what could have happened to Jo, but he knew that Dean was not having quite as much success in that area.

"Yeah, well, it sure as hell feels like it Sammy," Dean whispered, refusing to allow his voice to crack in that telltale fashion he loathed. "Ellen's dead, Jo's hurt, and neither of those two things would have happened if I hadn't been stupid enough to think I could take down the devil with a damn pea shooter. They paid the price for us, like Bill did for Dad. It's a vicious circle Sammy… Winchesters get people killed."

Sam froze, crippled by the weight of Dean's words. He had often wondered if their name was cursed, especially given the fact that they had lost so many friends and loved ones over the years, starting with their mother. However, Sam knew that generally speaking, such superstition was scorned by his brother. Realising that arguing this point would be futile, Sam decided instead to change tactic altogether.

"You can't breathe down her neck twenty four hours a day because you're scared of losing her," Sam reasoned, wincing as he saw Dean attempt to rub at his eyes in a discreet manner.

Sam knew all too well what it felt like to be concerned for the safety of the woman you loved. He had felt the same for Jess but had tragically been unable to protect her from who he was, and all that entailed. It was only natural that Dean had begun to feel similarly about Jo, but she was a hunter born and raised, and Sam felt it was wrong for her to be regarded in any way as helpless. Jo was more than capable of looking after herself if only those around her would just give her the chance to prove as much.

"I just need to know she's safe," Dean murmured, turning to catch his brother's eye. They held each other's gazes for a lengthy pause, an uncomfortable silence existing between them.

Finally, Sam released a sigh and looked away; a sure sign that he had opted to bend to Dean's will just this once.

"Alright," Sam said, choosing to articulate his decision. At Dean's relieved smile he added, "But we make sure she's ok and then we let her get on with whatever it is she needs to. No trying to bundle her in the trunk of the Impala. If you don't ease up on her Dean, you'll lose her anyway."

Dean nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. When he spoke his voice was quiet and carried a realisation of the truth behind Sam's words, "_I know_."

Jo was not the type of woman to be caged or cosseted; she craved adventure and freedom, and in that they were kindred souls. He did not want to smother her or try to dampen that fiery spirit, he loved the defiance in her nature and the determination in her eyes; but the fear that engulfed him was too strong to reason with. He needed to know that she was safe.

Sam, now dressed and wearing a suitably dubious expression, joined him at the door and within minutes they were sitting side by side in the Impala. Their motel fees had been paid in full by an antsy Dean, and their belongings as well as what was left of Jo's had been slung without care on the backseat. Ordinarily, Dean would have balked at the sight of his baby being treated with such blatant disrespect, but presently his mind was occupied only by thoughts of Jo.

"You even know where she's headed?" Sam asked, raising both eyebrows expectantly at his brother. Jo was unpredictable at the best of times but given her current mentally fragile state, Sam thought that attempting to track her down now could be akin to finding a needle in a stack of similarly sized needles.

"You sure we shouldn't just head to Bobby's and wait for her there?" Sam suggested, watching as Dean ferreted around in the glove box for his cell phone. Once he had located the mobile, he tossed it into Sam's lap before twisting his key in the ignition. The Impala roared to life and Dean began to check his mirrors.  
"No way Sammy, we find her today," he answered finally, staring out across the horizon in an uncharacteristically thoughtful manner, "besides, I've got a pretty good idea of where she's going."

Sam merely nodded, having had more than his fill of arguing with Dean for a little while at least. Dean swerved out of the parking lot onto the road, tyres screeching as the engine growled and the Impala disappeared in a cloud of dust and dirt.


	5. Chapter Four

**A.N. – This fic is a real life sisterly collab, written over a series of Facebook messages! How cool is that? Why not review and tell us?**

**Chapter Four**

Jo had expected the building to be near raised to the ground, so when she discovered the majority of the outer structure of the old roadhouse still intact, she was more than a little surprised. The roof was absent but much of the outer walls remained, although they were immensely charred and blackened. The windows were now devoid of any glass, the main door hanging off its hinges, and the porch steps had collapsed, but despite all this Harvelle's Roadhouse was still recognisable as home.

A kind of heavy sorrow settled on Jo's heart and for a long time she stood in the bright sunlight and simply stared up at the burned out carcass. She almost had to remind herself to breathe and when she finally attempted to exhale, her breath hitched in her throat.

Every happy memory Jo owned had been formed in that building; the place that her mother had poured both her savings and her soul into. Harvelle's Roadhouse may not have looked like much to anyone else, but it had served as a lifeline to the many hunters that had frequented it over the years. Ellen had gained a reputation as a hardnosed but fair woman, with a quick wit and a kind word for even the most persistent drunk.

Jo sighed at the ringing of her cell phone and retrieved the offending object from her back pocket. This was the third call in the space of fifteen minutes and she did not need to look at the screen to know that Dean's name would be flashing up once again. He was certainly persistent.

However, Jo knew that it would only be a matter of time before the Winchesters rolled up; she was confident that Dean at least knew her well enough to guess where she had disappeared to. Whilst she felt guilty for leaving the way that she had, this was something Jo had to do alone. It was a way to be closer to her mother, to revisit the past and remember moments that were not all about bloodshed or the hunt.

Her mother had taught her to shoot in the very spot she now stood on and Jo squinted against the sunlight as she discerned the tiny bullet holes that still decorated the wooden fences around the property.

The tree just across the yard Jo had once fallen out of. She'd missed a whole month of school in 5th grade, languishing at home with a heavy plaster-cast and suffering under the care of an over-attentive mother.

Her entire life was embroidered into the fabric of this place. The people she had loved, their laughter, tears, hopes and fears all somehow imprinted on the land and the timbers that now lay scattered at her feet. Jo blinked, surprised to find that she was not for once on the verge of tears and was instead smiling. The Roadhouse held too many precious memories for Jo to truly feel miserable at being faced with it again.

She gripped the trunk of the tiny sapling she clutched in her hand even tighter. It was a meager gesture but the only one that had immediately sprung to Jo's mind. There would be no gravestone for her mother since her body had been claimed by the flames in Carthage, but she felt that there should be some physical representation of Ellen's existence to remain. The land that the roadhouse stood on was still Harvelle property and so Jo had decided that she would honour her mother by planting a tree. It seemed a fitting tribute to a woman of Ellen's nature, and something that would hopefully linger long after even Jo herself was gone.

Jo had swiped a shovel from outside of the motel before leaving and she retrieved it now from her trunk, preparing to get to work. Jamming the shovel into the ground at her feet, Jo began turning over the soil. She grimaced as every movement sent shooting pain through her abdomen, but Jo gritted her teeth and persisted in her task. Moving slowly, she began to accumulate a pile of dirt by the toe of her left sneaker. After several minutes, she paused to both catch her breath and also push her loose curls behind her ears. That was when the sound of several male voices drifted clearly on the breeze to her ears. Instinctually, Jo froze.

Grasping the shovel tightly in her hands, she walked over toward the doorway, careful not to step on any of the splinters of wood that lay strewn around her feet. She stalled as she heard the voices once again; three, maybe four, all male. One of them seemed strangely familiar, although she could not immediately place how.

"I'm telling you, we need to move out north tonight... wherever that thing's headed, it's moving fast."

Jo's brow furrowed as she listened. She stepped through the doorway and peered into the dark, dusty shell of the roadhouse. She waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness before she finally managed to make out one of the faces that greeted her. A face she had not seen in a long time.

"Duke?" her eyes widened as she took in the sight of the man before her, a previous patron of the bar and someone her mom had affectionately referred to as one of the 'old timers.'

Duke Embry had been drinking at Harvelle's when Jo was still in pigtails and it was a strangely welcoming sight to see him suddenly standing before her.  
"Joanna?" he held out his arms in front of the two men beside him and they each hastily withdrew the shotguns they had trained on her.  
"Lord love a duck," he stepped out of the shadows and took in the appearance of the young woman before him, "if it isn't little Jo Harvelle. What are you doing here, child? I thought you were on the road with that hell-raising momma of yours?"

Duke had always been one of Jo's favourite regulars at the bar. He'd come wandering in most lunch times, regaling the other customers with anecdotes and stories of his childhood in Georgia, which seemed to prove every southern stereotype as true. He had been awarded the Purple Heart in Vietnam and his mishaps in the military had left him with several war wounds and a thousand more tall tales, all of which he was happy to share with whichever bar fly was within spitting distance. However, he always evaded questioning about how he was awarded his medal; it seemed some stories were just too painful for recollection.

Of course the other patrons would listen to him and take some amusement from his ramblings, but they would never know that aside from possessing a cocky smile and the proverbial gift of the gab, Duke was a seasoned and highly skilled hunter.

"It's good to see you Uncle Duke," Jo said, offering the man a small smile as she deliberately attempted to skirt around his question. The grin she received in response was dazzling and seemed to reach all the way to the corners of the man's deep blue eyes. In his youth, Duke had undoubtedly been a handsome man but he had only ever had designs on one woman; his wife, Rae. Together they had raised five daughters, none of whom had chosen to become hunters themselves, and yet all spoke fondly of their childhood.

"You too Jo," Duke replied, shooting warning glances at his companions, neither of whom seemed to have relaxed with his reassurances. Jo noted that she still brandished her shovel, and so she tucked it behind her back out of sight with an almost shy smile.

"What brings you here?" Jo questioned, cocking her head to one side in interest. She was mostly making polite small talk but was also slightly uncomfortable with the fact that the corpse of the Roadhouse was not being allowed to rest, so to speak. She thought that Ellen would be furious had she realised that her old patrons were still tramping through the ruins of her home and bar, showing it no more respect than they would a public bus stop.

"Hunt," said Duke, his features darkening the instant the word left his mouth. "Tracking something real nasty that's been killing our own. You shouldn't be out here alone Jo."

"I'm ok," Jo muttered, kicking at the ground beneath her feet with the toe of her sneaker and not caring how immature she looked doing so. The fact of the matter was that Jo was indeed alone now, and she wished that people would start accepting that fact. Dean's words of assurance, although arguably heartfelt, still left her feeling uncertain and unsettled. It had only been by accident that she had found out how he truly felt about her and he had yet to tell her directly how he saw their future together pan out, or if indeed he saw them together at all.

As she glanced around the sad ruins of her old home, she imagined her father barreling through the door, weathered bag in hand and a beaming smile on his face. He'd tell them how he missed 'his girls' and would scoop her and her mother up in an embrace so tight she almost couldn't breathe. Later that night she'd sneak out of bed, the soft strains of Billie Holiday songs waking her from sleep and she would find her parents downstairs in the bar. They would be totally oblivious to her presence as she crept quietly to watch them, arms entwined, slowly swaying in the darkness as they held onto each other for dear life.

It was perhaps because of this that no matter how many times she tried to dismiss the desire as childish or indulgent or girly- Jo wanted that. She did not care about the white picket fence or the fairytale happily ever after, she wanted a soulmate.

Shaking the images of her parents from her mind, Jo's head snapped up suddenly and she regarded Duke with curiosity, "A hunt? What are you guys hunting?"

"Not rightly sure yet," Duke drawled, pushing his sleeves up to his elbows. "But maybe you should get out of here sweetheart. Your Momma would kill me if something were to happen to you."

Jo swallowed hard and feigned a smile, shrugging a little as she added, "Maybe I can help?"

Duke guffawed but not unkindly, and Jo's cheeks coloured with a crimson hue.

"You always were a spitfire Jo," the man chuckled, moving forwards and wrapping Jo in a bear hug that caused her to draw in a sharp, pained breath. Sensing her discomfort, Duke drew away from the girl and held her out at arms length, his gaze sweeping her in an almost paternal manner.

"You been tangling with something then Jo?" Duke inquired, his eyes finally falling upon the slight bulge of the bandage beneath Jo's top. Self consciously, Jo laid her palm flat over the wound and cast her gaze downwards.

"Hell hound," she muttered, striving to maintain a neutral tone and an expression that gave little away. She was definitely not ready to begin recounting recent events to anyone, much less to one of Ellen's oldest acquaintances. As the words left her lips, Duke's greying eyebrows shot up.

"That's right, that's right," he suddenly recalled, waving his finger at the previously forgotten fact, "you've been riding with them Winchester boys. You take care of yourself with them missy, from what I've heard they're kind of reckless. You could get yourself killed associating with their type!"

Jo leant on the handle of the shovel and shook her head. "They're not like that Uncle Duke," she avoided his gaze and appeared to address the ground beneath her feet, "they're the best hunters around and you know it."

Duke smirked and nodded knowingly, "You uh... you a little sweet on one of 'em, huh? Ahh, don't try to hide behind that blush from me Joanna, I raised five daughters, remember."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jo replied, her tone a little more hostile than she intended. Duke blinked in obvious surprise, but nodded and offered Jo an almost apologetic smile.

"Sure thing, my mistake," he said, patting Jo gently on the shoulder. "Now you get on out of here and tell Ellen I said 'hi'. Real shame about this place. You ladies should give some thought to rebuilding it."

Jo merely nodded, too embarrassed and now upset to do much else. The last thing she wanted to talk about was her mother's death also she did not want to tell Duke that her mother had died on a hunt with Sam and Dean; it would somehow feel like a betrayal. She bore an odd sense of loyalty to the Winchesters, Dean especially, and it often annoyed her beyond measure to hear comments from other hunters about their attitudes, methods or failures.

They'd been raised as hunters just like Jo herself, and an understanding had always existed between them that they were somehow different to the other hunters they encountered. Some fell in to this bizarre line of work through choice or circumstance, but hunting was in their blood and perhaps from almost the cradle, it had been their destiny.

The sound of branches breaking outside captured their attentions and Jo's initial instinct was to roll her eyes at the lengths Dean would go to. How did he even know where she was?

"You hear that?" one of the other hunters stepped in front of Jo and peered nervously out of the door, scanning the yard and holding up his hand to signal for quiet.

Jo brushed him aside and stepped across what was left of the threshold, shielding her eyes against the unrelenting sunshine with her hand as she too now tried to track the source of the noise. An ice cool breeze suddenly blew across her cheek and Jo closed her eyes as she felt a presence around her. Once again the cold breath swept gently across her skin and instantly Jo's heartbeat quickened. She was almost certain she could hear something or someone breathing. Jo's eyes flashed open and for a split second she thought she saw a figure before her.

Her breathing erratic, she turned to face the men behind her, "Guys... RUN!"

The words had barely tumbled from her lips when the creature burst through the doorway, taking what was left of the old door off its hinges and flinging it across the room. The other hunters scattered and Jo stood routed to the spot, unable to think clearly in the midst of a sudden battle that she had not anticipated.

Duke had raised his shotgun in a split second, pulling it tight against his left shoulder as he aimed it towards the figure in the doorway. The monster towered at least three feet above the tallest of the men, but what struck Jo first was the bizarre mottled green hue of its skin. Sharp ridges lined the thing's back, which was visible due to the brown leather thong and loincloth it wore. It's ears were mere holes in the side of its enormous misshapen head, and impressive muscles rippled throughout its body as it stalked further into the room. The creature opened its mouth and barked something in an indistinguishable language, revealing a row of glistening and finely pointed canine teeth.

"What the hell is that thing?" Jo demanded, finally spurred into action as the creature's feral yellow eyes keenly swept the room. Jo raised the shovel in front of her in a defensive poise, and jumped slightly as Duke fired a round into the monster's shoulder. The creature barely flinched, whipping it's head towards Duke and snarling viciously. Jo suddenly began to doubt the effectiveness of the shovel she wielded.

From out of nowhere, strong hands suddenly gripped her shoulders, dragging her backwards in restraint. She struggled against her captor and cried out as the motion tore at the sutures in her side. Within seconds three more of the creatures had appeared as if from nowhere and were effortlessly holding Duke and his friends in a similar manner. Jo shrieked and thrashed against the creature, but it's strength proved overwhelming.

And then, there was nothing.

The wind swept across the floor of the roadhouse, sending a cloud of dried dust and dirt across the remaining floorboards. Weapons lay where they had been dropped, blankets remained on the floor where the hunters had sought shelter the previous night, and a bloodied bandage lay torn on the ground.

**x-x-x**

Dean rounded the corner and pulled into the old parking lot of the Roadhouse at break neck speed. Jo had been ignoring his calls all morning and although Sam had chalked this up to simple irritation, Dean could not escape the feeling that something was awry.

"Guess you were right after all," Sam commented, inclining his head in the direction of a dark blue Ford that was parked in front of the ruined building. The car bore a glaringly obvious rental sticker in the back window. Dean's heart was suddenly and inexplicably pounding against his ribcage.

"Where is she?" Dean worried, climbing out of the Impala several seconds ahead of Sam. Raising his hand to shield his eyes from the suns glare, Dean scoured the landscape for any sign of Jo. He saw only a small potted sapling standing under the shade of a larger tree, but he could not readily make much sense of the image.

"She was planting a tree?" Dean said incredulously, "that was her big secret?"

Sam looked down at the sapling and nodded, "That's... that's nice. Ellen would like that. It's roots are gonna dry out though if she doesn't plant it real soon. "  
Dean merely cast him a sideways glance and once again tried to ignore his brother's uncanny knack of sounding like a taller, lankier, Martha Stewart.

"I don't see her," Dean scanned the yard and marched off hurriedly, the weathered shards of burned wood crunching under each heavy booted step he took across the dirt.  
"Jo?" he stepped inside the shell of the roadhouse and took a moment to take in the scene around him. It was desperately sad to see the place in its present state, he could only imagine how Jo had felt, seeing her childhood home reduced to little more than charred ruins.

Dean ran his hand through his hair and turned around, his heart pounding in his ears as he stooped down and picked up the bloodied gauze. He stood up, hand suddenly shaking as he caught sight of the discarded weapons that lay prostrate on the ground.

"Sammy! Get your ass in here!" he bellowed, his eyes widening as he found what appeared to be drops of blood on the blackened floorboard by his foot. He rubbed his finger over the stain and was alarmed to find that it was indeed fresh, "SAM!"

Sam stepped through the doorway, brushing dirt from his hands and regarding his brother with an irritable expression, "Dude, what?"

"Blood," stated Dean, his expression grim as he exhibited his red coated fingers to Sam. "It's fresh too."

"You don't know it's hers," Sam said, realising immediately the nature of Dean's fears.

"Yeah," Dean replied, not trusting his voice to betray his panic if he continued speaking.

He scrutinised the state of the room and the evidently abandoned equipment, trying to make sense in his own mind of what appeared to have occurred.

Dean turned to regard his brother and when he did, Sam noted that his eyes were haunted."I promised to look out for her Sammy," Dean said quietly, bowing his head and touching one hand to the wall.

"Don't do that Dean," snapped Sam, rounding on his brother angrily. Dean raised his head, his gaze focusing on Sam, and he blinked in surprise at the expression of fury he saw spread across his little brother's features. Sam's entire body trembled in a sure demonstration of his anger.

"Don't bury her before we even know what happened here," Sam continued, pointing a finger in warning at Dean. "She's a hunter, and a damned good one. Give her more credit than that dude."

Dean blinked, and then merely nodded. Sam sighed and affixed a more suitably sympathetic look upon his face.

"We'll find her," he promised, stooping to pick up one of the shotguns that lay at their feet. He examined the weapon carefully, discharged the shells still present in the barrel, and realised quickly that at least one round had been fired.

"What do we do?" Dean asked, rubbing his face with both palms in a despairing gesture.

"I got one idea," answered Sam, raising his eyes towards the absent ceiling in a telltale fashion. He cupped both hands around his mouth and, although wholly unnecessary, he directed a bellow towards the sky. "Castiel? Cas, get down here, would you?"

"There is no need to shout."

Castiel stood motionless in the doorway, his hands by his sides as he regarded them with a thoroughly unperturbed expression. He simply waited for an explanation with an air of near constant calm about him.

"We need to find Jo," Dean stated, frowning as Castiel did not immediately jump to attention.

Castiel appeared confused, "But I thought Joanna was with you?"

Dean shook his head and gestured to the torn bandage in his hand.

"Would we be asking you if we knew where she was?" he demanded, "she came out here to... to..."

"Plant a tree," Sam supplied helpfully, "for Ellen."

"A very nice gesture," Castiel nodded his approval, glancing down at the blood on the ground and the array of weapons. He knelt on the floor and ran his hand over the droplets of blood he found, raising an eyebrow at his findings, "Oh, dear."

"What? What do you mean _'oh, dear'_?" Dean was becoming increasingly more panic stricken by the second, "Cas?"

"Demons were here," he announced, standing up and scanning the room, "I will try to locate your friend".

He patted Dean's shoulder awkwardly, both men taking a moment to recoil just a little from the gesture, before Cas closed his eyes and drew in a slow, deep breath.  
His eyelids flashed opened seconds later. "I'm afraid I cannot find Joanna," he looked momentarily thoughtful before announcing, "I believe she is no longer on this plane of existence."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Dean almost snarled, now inches from Castiel's face. The angel frowned but remained perfectly still. In the time that he had known Dean, he had grown accustomed to his quick temper.

"Simply put, I believe she is now in another dimension of time," Cas replied in his usual monotone voice that at the present moment was grating on Dean's last nerve.

"Another dimension?" Sam repeated, shooting Dean a surprised glance. In an awed tone he added, "Unbelievable."

"Wait, hold up," Dean interjected, placing himself directly between Castiel and Sam in order to draw both of their attentions. "You're saying that she's in some… other time? Some demon's gone all Marty McFly and taken Jo along for the ride?"

Castiel cocked his head to one side, puzzled as usual by Dean's love of inane pop culture.

"I did not say she had left this time," Castiel corrected, "only the mortal coil."

"Do you even speak English anymore?" snapped Dean, placing one hand on his lower back and the other to his forehead in a gesture that Sam recognised as one of despair.

"What Cas means is that Jo is still in our time, just in another location that is strictly speaking, not on Earth. Imagine it as another reality that exists alongside our own, rather than within it," Sam said, watching Dean's face as he struggled to digest the theory.

At any other time, Sam would have chuckled at Dean's bemused frown but in light of the current situation he opted instead to remain quiet.

"Can we get her back?" Dean demanded, staring directly at Castiel now. The angel shrugged and Dean resisted the urge to slug him in the face, knowing that this action would only bring the consequence of a bruised knuckle and a sorely irritated Castiel.

"There is blood here," Cas stated, stooping to the ground and examining the droplets of blood that Dean had discovered minutes ago. "Human and… primal demon."

"Is it hers?" asked Dean in a rush at the exact same moment that Sam inquired with interest, "What's a primal demon?"

Castiel decided that perhaps for eveyone's sake, he should answer Dean's question first and he sighed somewhat sadly as he nodded; he did not enjoy causing his friend pain."Yes, it is Joanna's blood."

Dean's face fell, he swallowed against the wave of nausea that suddenly overcame him and dropped down to a stooping position, his head cradled in his hands as he muttered indistinguishably to himself. Sam repeated his question and Castiel turned his gaze from Dean.

"A primal demon is one of the oldest, most base forms of creature," he stated, his expression conveying his apparent disgust for them.

"Okay, base... that's good, right?" Sam enthused, trying to find the silver lining, "that means they gotta be easy to kill, right?"

Castiel's lips arched into a confused smile and he merely shook his head, "Do not underestimate them, they are the most pure form of evil, brought to life by Lucifer himself when he was first cast from Heaven."

Sam winced and narrowed his eyes as he digested this new information, "Okay, well... how do we find them?"  
Castiel's expression darkened and he seemed reluctant to answer the question. Within a mere second Dean had snapped out of his stupor and arisen to grab Castiel by the lapels of his trench coat, no longer caring whether he ended up on the angel's bad side or not.

"Just tell us," Dean growled, his eyes desperately scanning Castiel's features. And to Dean's utter amazement, the angel immediately complied.


	6. Chapter Five

**A.N. – This fic is the joint baby of WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon. Need… reviews… to… live….**

**Chapter Five**

Once again Bobby's kitchen was the designated 'panic room' and whilst Dean paced a trench around them, Sam and Bobby remained seated about the table, scouring books of ancient demonic folklore.

Castiel had disappeared some five minutes earlier, having decided to consult with the other angels on the current demon situation. As far as he was aware, primal demons had neither been seen nor heard from for over a thousand years and he could not begin to guess why they had reappeared now, or what they may want with their human captives.

Whilst it was true that Castiel could take Dean to the dimension that Jo was being held in, the question of whether or not he should was one he had not dared voice out loud to the humans.

"Dean would you sit down son?" Bobby finally demanded, slamming closed the heavy tome that he currently flipped through. "Wearing a hole in my floor isn't helping anyone."

Dean simply shook his head as he lowered himself into the chair opposite Bobby.

"So what do we know so far?" Sam asked, leaning back against his own chair with a sigh and affixing his gaze on Dean.

"A big fat stinking pile of nothing," snarled Dean, dropping his head into his hands as he propped his elbows on the table.

"Would you quit wallowing in self pity," Bobby retorted, swiping at Dean and shooting him a reproachful glare.

"You find anything?" Dean's voice was laced with fear and Bobby could not recall when he had last seen him so restless.  
"No," Bobby cleared his throat and glanced across discreetly at Sam, "these uh... these primal demons haven't been seen before. But that doesn't mean we can't find them and kick their asses."

"Where the hell is Cas?" Dean demanded, picking up one of the books and attempting to help out with the research. Brooding and worrying was not going to locate Jo any faster.  
The three men remained in silence for several minutes; only the sound of turning pages disturbing the quiet.  
Dean rubbed his eyes and stared absently across the room. He licked his lips, speaking in a voice that was little more than above a whisper, "You think she's still alive?"

"Damn it Dean," Bobby muttered, "that girl's Momma raised her right. Give her some credit, would ya?"

"Yeah, sure," was Dean's only reply as he buried his nose back in the book before him. He felt genuinely awful for doubting Jo and the extensive training that Ellen had given her, and yet try as he may he simply could not dispel his fears for her safety. Castiel had confirmed that the blood on the ground belonged to Jo and this fact was all that he seemed able to focus upon. Dean knew that both Sam and Bobby were growing irritated with his moroseness, but he could do little to lift his own spirits.

"So far all I got is what Cas already told us," Sam said, running one hand through his already tousled hair and affixing Dean with an apologetic gaze.

"As far as I can tell, primal demons are the first living entities that Lucifer created after Michael tossed him into the pit," Bobby said, removing his cap and smoothing down his hair before continuing. "They're described as brutal, bloodthirsty and seven different kinds of ugly. According to the books, they've been extinct for the best part of a millennium. Lucifer banished the races to another dimension when he created the likes of Ruby and Meg."

"They were the prototypes," Dean speculated, trying to banish all negative thoughts from his mind. Jo was going to be fine. Sam was right; she could look after herself. She was a skilled hunter and if Dean were being honest, he'd have to admit that she'd saved his miserable hide on more than one occasion.

Sam shook his head and tapped his finger against a paragraph of writing on the page before him.

"Not exactly," he interjected, "it says here that Lucifer banished them from Hell after they tried to overthrow him... in a revolt led by his daughter."  
Dean's eyebrows raised in shock.

"Daughter?" he leant back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, "Satan's got a rug rat?"  
Sam shrugged and lifted up the book for Dean to read, watching as both Dean and Bobby scanned the tome with similarly incredulous looks.  
"That's... that's what it says," Sam nodded with a strange undertone of glee to his voice.  
"Okay, so why haven't any of us heard from junior before now? Surely we'd have been on the end of her pitch fork at least once or twice in the last thousand years," Bobby reasoned.  
Sam smiled knowingly and shook his head, "Says here that he banished her too... to purgatory."  
"Ouch," Dean remarked, wincing at the idea, "talk about tough love."

"Does it say how?" Bobby inquired, leaning forwards to examine the text that Sam held aloft with interest.

"Does it matter?" Sam countered, his smile somewhat victorious.

"Yes."

The three men had been so engrossed in their conversation that the fluttering of wings had failed to register with any of them. Castiel had appeared less than a second later, the tails of his trench coat wafting out behind him in the faint breeze that his appearance had created.

"It does?" asked Sam, shooting Cas a dubious look that the angel met with an arched eyebrow.

"Of course," said Castiel, regarding each of the men in turn with an impatient expression spread across his features. "Leila was vicious, calculating and self-serving. She fought a great battle with her father after attempting to overthrow him and gain control of Hell. She thrives on torment and suffering."

"And her name is Leila?" Dean guffawed. "Classy."

"She should not be underestimated Dean," Castiel warned in a somber tone that was complimented by a dark look. "The word amongst the other angels is that the primal demons could be about to attempt to invoke Leila once again."

"Well, it would certainly solve our whole Lucifer and Michael issue," Dean observed, cocking his head to one side as he addressed Castiel. "If this Leila chick ganks her Dad then I guess the big showdown between Michael and Lucifer becomes moot. No more vessels, no more apocalypse."

"Perhaps," Castiel conceded, an uncertain expression wavering momentarily across his face.

"So, did you find anything else out?" Sam asked, turning to directly address the angel who merely shook his head.  
"No," Castiel dug his hands in his pockets and walked over to the table, skimming the books with a cursory glance as he stood behind Bobby, "none of the others are aware of any demon activity from a parallel dimension."

"Okay, I'm done with this," Dean slammed his book closed and stood up from the table, "how are we gonna do this? Cas, you can get me into Narnia?"  
Castiel frowned, "They have given their permission, yes."  
Dean held up his hand and backtracked on the angel's words, "Whoa, whoa, wait... they've given you permission? I don't need their permission Cas and I sure as hell never asked for it. I'm going to get her... now you three are welcome to come along for the ride or you can all hang out here and play Guitar Hero. Either way, I'm bringing Jo home."

"Think I'll sit this one out," Bobby drawled with a sardonic roll of his eyes as he patted the wheels of his chair and released an audible sigh. Dean gave a curt nod, too eager to commence with the rescue mission to bother offering much sympathy to Bobby. The older hunter shot Dean a glare and muttered something evidently rude but somewhat incoherent under his breath.

"Sammy, you game?" Dean pressed, shooting Sam an inquisitive look. At Sam's responding nod, Dean turned back to Castiel. "Ok then boys, let's saddle up."

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but then paused uncertainly. Each time the words were about to leave his lips he hesitated before finally finding the courage to vocalise all their concerns. "Dean, not that we're not with you a hundred and ten percent here, because, you know... we are, but, do we even have a plan? I mean, how are we going to kill those things? We don't know anything about them."

Dean arched an eyebrow at his brother and returned his attention to loading the shotgun in his hands. He had considered for all of five seconds the fact that they were now dealing with corporeal demons as opposed to ones that could be exercised with a little light chanting, but he was hopeful that this would prove to be an advantage rather than anything else.

"I was just gonna go for a little good old-fashioned violence," he shrugged, slipping a sheathed knife into his boot and checking the barrel of a handgun that he then hastily added to his back pocket.  
Sam smiled tightly and nodded, catching the rifle that Bobby threw at him and adding the dagger they had taken from Ruby to his belt.

"I feel I must warn you that these demons are highly dangerous," Castiel took the opportunity to point out, "we do not know what they want with these humans, nor do we really know of their ultimate plan."  
"Exactly," Dean nodded, looping the shoulder strap of another rifle over his arm and hoisting it up onto his shoulder blade, "and they've got Jo. Let's go."

**x-x-x**

Although Jo opened her eyes, her vision was the last of her senses to return to her. First, she was assaulted by the acrid stench of decomposing flesh, and a succession of terrified whimpers that alerted her to the fact she was not alone.

As the walls surrounding her swam slowly into focus, Jo realised that she was lying on her side with nothing but cold, damp dirt beneath her. She could feel a trickle of dried blood on her cheek and her left temple throbbed in a telltale fashion.

Squinting against the darkness, Jo was just about able to discern that the walls were made of stone, and plagued in some places by heavy moss growth. Beyond that, Jo could see little else. Pressing one palm into the ground, Jo attempted to push herself up into a sitting position. She released her breath in a hiss as the action sent a ripple of pain throughout her body that had stemmed from the hell hound wound on her stomach. Slowly, the pinpricks of light dancing in front of her eyes subsided, and relative clarity was once more brought to her vision.

Jo scanned the scene around her, raising her hand to cover her nose and mouth to try to stem the sudden urge to vomit; all around her lay dead, decomposing bodies. The smell was almost unbearable, yet somehow the living milled around as if they had acclimatized to the sight and indeed the stench. That prospect terrified Jo and she wondered how long some of these people had been held captive. Some she instantly recognised as hunters, others she was fairly certain had passed through the roadhouse, and suddenly it all began to make sense. These things, whatever they were, were targeting hunters.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Duke, eyes closed as he lay slumped against the wall. Managing to slowly stand, Jo picked her way through the minefield of dead and dying, and crouched down next to him, concern clouding her face.  
"Duke?" she shook his shoulder gently and was relieved when his blue eyes flashed open almost immediately.

The first word to pass Duke's lips was a profanity that almost gave Jo cause to smile. The hunter pressed a hand to the back of his head and when he withdrew his fingers, they were sticky with blood. Duke winced and peered up into Jo's face, his eyes ticking to the purple mottled bruise that adorned her temple.

"You know where we are?" Duke muttered finally, drawing his knees into his chest and then slowly sliding up the wall into a standing position. Jo shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as her gaze passed over the collection of hunters before her.

"I've never seen anything like this before," said Jo, her voice shaking slightly. Indeed, neither had she ever heard of a kidnap of this scale before. A quick headcount had revealed that twenty hunters, excluding herself were present in the enclosure, and that figure did not include those that had already expired.

"No, and I ain't never seen nothin' like those green, spiny things either," he remarked, glancing up to a lookout post where one of the creatures stood guard over the prisoners. Jo followed his line of vision and gazed up with uncertainty.

"Demons?" she suggested, watching as two similarly clad guards dragged the injured body of another hunter through the gates and threw him unceremoniously onto the ground. They cast a watchful eye over the rest of the prisoners before retreating back out of the gates and Jo felt herself release a long held breath as they disappeared from view.

"That'd be my guess," Duke nodded in agreement, "but I'll be damned if I know what kind."  
Jo sat down against the wall and tried to gather her thoughts; they had to find a way out somehow, yet the prospect appeared impossible. Whatever these demons were, they clearly meant business.  
"Jesus Christ," Duke hung his head sadly, averting his eyes from the body of a young hunter lying no more than a few feet away, "that's Danny Lambert. I worked with the kid on a few hunts down in New Orleans. Guy had a wife and baby boy at home."

Jo stared at the hunter's lifeless body, her heart aching not just for the young life that had been taken, but for the child at home who would never really know his father. The few years she had had with her own father would never be enough and sometimes his memory felt so far removed and distant that he seemed like little more than a stranger.

"I don't see those Winchester boys here," Duke sat down next to her and fished in his pocket for a cigarette.  
Jo breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head slowly, "No."

She prayed it would stay that way. However, she was also keenly aware of the fact that Dean would currently be in the process of scouring the continental US for her. The demons or creatures or whatever new nasty they turned out to be, had proven no match for four hunters and Jo's heart sank at the prospect of them taking on the Winchesters.

"So what do we do now?" Jo inquired, her eyes still sweeping the perimetre of the structure they were imprisoned inside. Four stone walls of insurmountable height, a wrought iron gate that was padlocked from the outside, and an earthen floor that would prove near impossible to dig under without being seen by the creature perched in the guard post.

Cautiously, Jo approached the gate, ignoring the stares she received from the hunters around her. She noted that she appeared to be the only woman thus far, but then she supposed that female hunters were thin on the ground to begin with.

Reaching the metal bars, Jo gripped the gate with both hands and leaned forwards in order to get a better view of the land surrounding. The prison seemed to be located in the middle of some kind of settlement. A number of smaller stone buildings dotted the landscape and more of the demonic type creatures milled about, some seeming to pause as if engaging in conversation. Jo jumped back from the gate as a knife was thrust through the bars by a creature that suddenly appeared before her, it's somewhat intelligent eyes narrowing to slits.

"Ok…" Jo placated, her hands raised in front of her in a non-confrontational gesture. "Relax… I'm not going anywhere."

Sadly, Jo knew there was nothing but truth behind her statement. They had to find a way out somehow; she was certain their lives depended on it.

**x-x-x**

"Are you ready?"

Sam had barely time to nod in response to the question before he felt the faint tap of Castiel's index finger on his forehead. The sensation of falling from a great height was immediate, however in the next instant Sam found himself once more standing on solid ground, his knees slightly bent as though he had landed from a jump.

Dean stood parallel to his brother, wearing a faintly nauseas expression as he swayed drunkenly. Sam knew that there was nothing Dean hated more than a trip on the 'Castiel Express' and so it was a true testament of his feelings towards Jo that he was willing to endure it now.

"This is it?" Sam inquired, turning in a slow circle in order to survey their new surroundings.

Castiel nodded, obviously amused by Sam's disappointment, "Were you expecting something else?"  
Sam shrugged, "Well, no. It's just this place looks kind of like..."  
"Walton's Mountain," Dean supplied, frowning as he too surveyed the landscape and found it, for want of a better word, strangely normal. Some might perhaps have described it as scenic, with scatterings of tall, dark green fir trees peppering an impressive mountain range; although the large, foreboding stone built structure that sat on the top of the nearest hillside could definitely not be considered so.

"What the hell is that?" Sam's eyes widened as he took in the building that he noted bore a resemblance to an early colonial prison. From their current position they could ascertain one lookout tower on the north wall and what appeared to be a heavily guarded external gate.

"There's only one way to find out. Let's go," Dean readjusted the shot gun on his shoulder and strode off toward the building, the heavy brush and forest debris crunching under his boots as he strode ahead in a clearly determined mindset.

As the trio neared the looming structure, Castiel held both arms out to the brothers in warning and shrank back into the cover of the trees. Dean and Sam followed suit, their gazes trained all the while on the closed gate, from behind which the sound of voices ringing out could be heard.

"You think that's where Jo is?" Sam whispered, directing his question at Cas who nodded.

"I am almost certain of it," replied Castiel, closing his eyes momentarily as he added, "I can go no further. Behind those walls are Enochian sigils… the way is barred to me, and the rest of my kind."

"Well that's just peachy," Dean growled, wiping beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. The one main difference he had noted thus far between this dimension and his own was the extreme variance in temperature. Dean's t-shirt was already drenched with sweat despite the fact that their arrival had been little over five minutes ago. A quick glance in Sam's direction showed Dean that he was faring no better under the suddenly intense heat. Sam's hair was becoming plastered to his forehead and his cheeks had flushed almost crimson. Only Castiel seemed unaffected.

"What the..." Dean murmured, looking on as two demons dragged a human body along the ground, the unlucky man's feet dragging lines in the dirt as they signaled for the gate to be open and all but tossed him through the entry way.  
Sam shot a sideways glance at his brother as Dean suddenly began to head closer to the compound, "Dean? Psst... Dean?"  
Rolling his eyes, Sam carefully followed behind, leaving Castiel in the cover of the trees.

"I will wait here," Cas stated, busying himself with taking in the scenery around him.

Sam reached his brother's side and crouched down, using the cover of a gravel pile to remain hidden from the demon guards. Behind the metal gates, several humans were wandering absently around. Many seemed to be limping or otherwise injured and their clothes were torn and in disarray.

"Is that Lou?" Dean strained to make out the face of the man standing nearest the gate. Lou Johnson was an old friend of their fathers who they had met once or twice over the years at the roadhouse. Dean had thought he had retired from hunting, although he was certain that it was him they were now looking at.

"And Cooper Rollins?" Sam raised both eyebrows in shock at seeing one of the most infamous hunters of all time apparently now being held captive by a bunch of renegade demons.

Dean could not help a small smirk at the idea that Cooper had been caught. The man was famed with possessing an ego as large as his temper, and he could often be found boasting about his latest hunt at the bars he frequented.

"They're taking hunters," Dean murmured, features twisting into a thoughtful frown. Sam narrowed his eyes and leaned a little farther forwards, careful that his movements did not disturb the surrounding ground.

"Looks like," Sam agreed, squinting as he attempted to pick out other familiar faces in the mass. He noted several bodies laying face down on the ground, and shuddered. He hoped that Jo was not among those.

As if reading his thoughts, Dean said anxiously, "Do you see Jo?"

"No," Sam said gravely, his eyes darting to his brother's face as he watched his expression change.

Dean's eyes closed and Sam heard him blow out an unsteady breath, his hands gripping the barrel of the shotgun so hard that his knuckles whitened.  
"I gotta get in there," he suddenly announced, standing up and throwing his rifle at Sam, who caught it with ease, "take this. You and Cas need to find some way of getting us out of there... I have to find her, Sam."  
"Dean, no. That's crazy!" Sam suddenly shook his head in understanding as he realised what Dean was planning. He seized brother's arm, anger colouring his voice as he added, "Would you just think rationally for a second, here?"

"No I'm done waiting around," Dan snarled, shrugging Sam's hand from the sleeve of his jacket. Without another word, Dean turned on his heel and stalked towards the camp. He had barely made it three steps when Sam called his name once again. Dean shot his younger brother a brief glance, attempting to disregard the worry clouding his features.

"Be careful Dean," Sam replied after a pause. Dean offered Sam the smallest of smiles and then took off running towards the gate.


	7. Chapter Six

**A.N. – This fic is a butt kicking collab between WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon. Please feed the beasts with reviews! There will be no updates for the weekend as we are away at a family wedding, but we hope to see you all again next week.**

**Chapter Six**

Dean approached the gate with his hands jammed in his pockets, his mind working overtime to formulate a coherent plan. As he walked, Dean's eyes swept over the area, evaluating both the strength of the demonic security and also the state of the building he neared. Dean reached the entrance to the prison in no time at all with only the faintest representation of a plan in his mind. However, with a shrug, he stooped low to the ground, located a baseball sized rock, and then whipped back his arm in demonstration of a near perfect pitch.

The rock hit the first of the two demons in it's bulging forehead and the creature snarled immediately, raising the hunting knife it held towards the trees. As it's beady eyes fell upon Dean, who continued to smirk in satisfaction, the demon released a terrifying snarl. Dean was reminded for a moment of the hell hounds they had faced in Missouri and he struggled to maintain his arrogant demeanour.

"I was wondering if one of you boys… hell, maybe you're ladies … could help me?" Dean called out in a mock cheery tone. "I think I took a wrong turn somewhere back there. Anyone know how to get to Dunkin' Donuts?"

One of the creatures looked up at the guard positioned in the watchtower and for a moment it seemed that they were having some sort of altercation, although no words were exchanged. The guard in the tower gestured irritably toward Dean.

"No?" Dean shrugged, scuffing his boot across the ground as he tried to get a look behind the creatures at the imprisoned hunters, many of whom neared the gate as they heard the commotion.  
"Alright, I'll level with you," Dean nodded, holding up his hands in confession, "I'm a hunter. Okay, ya got me- Dean Winchester."

He arched an eyebrow and dug his hands back into his pockets, hoping the handgun he had hastily shoved down the front of his jeans would not make a sudden and ill-timed move down his leg.

"_Winchester_?" he tried again, ever so slightly disappointed that he had failed to provoke a reaction. Creatures of the underworld generally recoiled in horror or attacked instantly upon hearing the name, but so far they had yet to bat a scaly eyelid.

"Huh. Nothing. Anyway, the thing is, you ugly sons of bitches took my friend and... I want her back."

From across the yard Jo peered curiously at the crowd of hunters, wondering who or what was gathering their collective attention.

"What's going on?" Jo murmured, shooting an inquisitive glance at Duke who had positioned himself by the wall to the right of the gate. The old hunter craned his neck to allow a better view of the outer landscape, and whatever he saw caused him to gasp. Jo stood on her tiptoes, cursing her lack of height for not allowing her to see over the taller hunters' heads. A murmur had risen up through the crowd of men now, and one word passed back to where Jo stood.

"Winchester."

"Oh for the love of…" Jo groaned, closing her eyes and slapping her palm to her forehead. She should have known that Sam and Dean would not be able to resist the urge to barrel to her rescue with all the careful planning and finesse of a couple of bulls in a China store.

"That boy's madder than a box of frogs," Duke muttered, his voice tinged half with awe and half with disbelief.

"I am going to kill him," Jo seethed, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at the bars of the gate. Duke shot Jo a knowing look and a smile twisted the corners of his lips upward.

"So, he's here for you then?" Duke inquired, an incorrigible twinkle present in his blue eyes.

"Not now, Duke!" Jo spat, widening her eyes to greater emphasize the point that she would not at that moment discuss her love life; or at all, if possible. Duke bit back a smirk and nodded, holding up his hands in a silent apology.

"Dean Winchester, what the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?" Jo yelled, weaving through the mass of hunters so that she could obtain a clearer view.

"Jo?" she heard Dean call back. He sounded strangely elated for a man about to be either murdered or, at the very least, viciously maimed.

Jo stood as close to the gate as she could, her eyes narrowing in anger as she watched Dean give himself up to the guards; although given their disinterested expressions, she was not entirely certain they wanted him.  
"Dean, get out of here!" she commanded. She was confused as to whether she should be touched by his bravery or a little concerned for his sanity.

The gate swung open and the crowd of hunters parted. Seconds later, Dean Winchester was literally flung into the midst of the prison. A couple of rookie hunters snickered as Dean skidded across the floor on his stomach but most knew enough about the Winchester brothers to realise that laughing could have potentially dire consequences.

Dean groaned as the wind was temporarily knocked out of him. The gate was closed once more with a resonating slam, and as the other hunters began to disperse having lost interest, Duke pushed forwards and extended a hand to Dean.

"Thanks man," Dean muttered, climbing to his feet with Duke's aid and beginning to brush the dust from his clothing. "Long time no see Duke. How you been?"

"Prostate trouble," Duke replied, extracting a sympathetic wince from Dean. "Other than that, Jenny's getting married in February."

"No way," Dean said, a wide smile spreading across his face. "Well, you tell her I said congratulations."

Jo stared at the two men askance, her eyes wide and both hands planted firmly on her hips as they exchanged pleasantries as though they had bumped into each other at the grocery store.

Dean's gaze was suddenly diverted however, and his lips curved into a relieved smile as his eyes held Jo in an unwavering stare.  
She sighed as her words of reproach died on her lips and she merely stared back at him, torn between slapping him or throwing her arms around him. Dean closed the distance between them in barely two strides, eliminating the need for Jo to make the decision herself. Dean faltered as he stood before her then reached out to place a tentative finger to the bruise on her temple.

Duke cleared his throat and jammed his hands in his pockets.

"Well, I think I see an old poker buddy of mine, so if you kids don't mind..." he nodded politely at them before he wandered across the enclosure, leaving them to talk or argue; possibly both. Any guy prepared to offer himself up to demons was in Duke's book either entirely crazy or hopelessly love sick; clearly the kid had it bad.

"You're insane Dean, you know that?"" Jo sighed in exasperation.

"Gee, thanks for coming to rescue me Dean," he retorted, arching one eyebrow as he glared down at Jo, "it was really thoughtful of you to risk your own life just to make sure I hadn't been murdered or eaten by something."

"You call this a rescue?" Jo demanded incredulously, gesturing to the walls surrounding them. "In case you hadn't noticed Winchester, you're locked in here with me now."

"Thanks, I got that, _Harvelle_," Dean all but sneered, emphasising Jo's surname pointedly. As they argued their bodies seemed to gravitate closer together and by the time Jo had formulated a suitably snarky response in her head, they were almost nose to nose.

"What kind of dumb ass offers himself up to the kidnapper and calls it a rescue attempt?" said Jo, chuckling as she shook her head in disbelief at Dean's apparent stupidity.

"You're so welcome," Dean snapped, "next time sweetheart I'll wait for a written request of assistance."

"Oh please," scoffed Jo, her tone openly mocking, "as if I need help from you!"

"Hey, you want to go it alone, I'll be more than happy to leave your ungrateful ass here," he offered, suddenly finding it increasingly difficult to tear his gaze away from her lips. They looked plump and impossibly moist, and Dean found himself wondering how they would feel brushing against his own.

"Fine!" Jo countered, leaning ever closer as she tilted her head to one side and stared up in defiance.

"Fine!" Dean snapped, swallowing hard as he returned her glare with equal fervour.

A small audience gathered to watch the couple, although they were careful to keep a discreet distance. However, patience soon began to wear thin amongst the spectators as the childish back and forth squabble continued.

"Are you gonna kiss her or not?" came an untraceable voice from the centre of the crowd.

"Shut up!" Dean and Jo simultaneously yelled, tearing their gazes away from each other for a split second. When they turned to regard each other once again, they unexpectedly found themselves eye to eye.

Dean shook his head, reminding himself how stubborn, headstrong and utterly infuriating the woman in front of him was. Jo challenged him, provoked him, drove him crazy with her impetuousness, and her lack of regard for her own safety was going to be the death of him; yet he knew he'd never come close to feeling this way about another woman before. Dean would shy away from the word 'love' until the day he died, but that did not mean that his heart was incapable of it.

For Jo's part, Dean Winchester was everything her momma had ever warned her about, all wrapped up in one cocky, pig-headed, arrogant package.

Jo was not entirely sure who made the first move, but seconds later she found herself pulled tight against Dean's chest, her arms encircling his neck as lips collided in a frantic and long overdue kiss.

Dean's hand found the curve of her hip, pulling her ever closer as he gently cupped her cheek and elicited a murmur of approval from her lips that caused his stomach to dip. Their first kiss ended abruptly as the need for oxygen became too great to deny. They remained entangled in each other's arms however, Dean pressing his cheek to hers as the pad of his thumb traced her cheekbone.

"Well, good to see you too Dean," Jo murmured, now wearing a grin that brought new light to her face. Dean chuckled softly and licked his lips where the taste of Jo's lip balm lingered.

"I'm glad you're ok," he conceded, brushing the crown of her head with a tender kiss. A smattering of applause broke out and Jo felt her cheeks growing hot. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that if they made it out of the current situation alive, there would not be a hunter left in all fifty states that would not get to hear about her very public tryst with Dean Winchester.

"I'm sorry I left like that," said Jo quietly, raising her gaze to meet Dean's and offering him an apologetic look. Dean simply pressed his lips against Jo's in a second but more fleeting gesture. Jo's eyes fluttered closed and remained so for the duration of the kiss; when they eventually reopened, Dean was wearing his relief for all to see.

"Don't ever do that to me again," Dean instructed, brushing a tendril of Jo's hair behind her ears. Jo nibbled on her bottom lip and nodded, genuinely apologetic for the worry she knew she had caused.

"And I'm sorry for being such an overbearing asshole lately," Dean conceded, rolling his eyes as Jo nodded in agreement. His hands moved to settle on her waist and she felt herself almost melting into his embrace as he held her. Although she had imagined many times what it would feel like to be in his arms, for once she found reality far exceeded her fantasies. The ones she was willing to admit to, anyway.

"I guess this should all probably wait for another time," Jo suggested, wincing as she cast a glance at the macabre scene that surrounded them. Dean's lip curled in disgust as he surveyed the countless dead bodies and the remaining captive hunters, some of whom appeared more than a little worse for wear. The conditions they had been living in were appalling and Dean wondered from the state of some of the men whether the demons were bothering to provide essentials such as food and water.

"Agreed. We're kind of knee deep in dead dudes right now," said Dean, taking Jo's arm and navigating her away from the gate, and the subsequent field of view of the demonic guards.

"So, tell me you actually have a plan," Jo demanded anxiously, although both her voice and demeanour had now softened.

"I'm… actively working on it…" answered Dean, flashing Jo a grin that she could respond to with little else than a cursory roll of her eyes.

"Well, don't hurt yourself genius," she teased, patting Dean's backside; a gesture that elicited a surprised but not discontent smile from the hunter.

They sat down against the far wall, Jo drawing her knees up into her chest as a cold breeze swept across the enclosure and she shivered. Dean nonchalantly slipped his arm around her shoulder and drew her into his side, rubbing his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to warm her.  
"So, what are those things?" she nodded over toward the watchtower, where one particularly aggressive creature stood surveying the crowd. Jo noted a loaded crossbow in the creature's hand. So far the weaponry the things possessed seemed to be archaic, including enormous hunting knives, bows, and even a few spears.  
"Primal demons," Dean supplied, happy for once to be the one imparting wisdom. Jo had always been better at the research element of hunting than he had.  
He watched a frown of confusion settle on her face and he smiled wryly, "Yeah, I know... never heard of them either."

"But they're nothing like demons," Jo said, narrowing her eyes as she continued to evaluate the guard. "Demons are all smoky and most of them are kind of skanky too."

"Not these ones," Dean admonished with a faint shrug of his shoulders. "These are Lucifer's originals. Twice as dumb but twice as vicious as your average demonic hell spawn."

"Twice as ugly too," replied Jo, shuddering and averting her gaze suddenly from the demon as its own eyes seemed to lock with hers across the distance. "Why don't they talk?"

"I have no idea," Dean said, his frown puzzled as he contemplated Jo's question. She had been around the primal demons long enough to have gleaned at least some knowledge of the species, so he was willing to take it on faith that the demons could not speak, or at least communicate in a manner that the humans would understand. He was only sorry that the likes of Meg and Ruby had not proved to be similarly mute.

"Did you guys find out anything else? Like what they want with all these hunters?" Jo glanced up at him hopefully, suddenly realising that she was leaning her head on his shoulder. The new found intimacy between them was practiced with surprising ease and Jo was relieved that they were not awkward in each other's company. Being so close to Dean did not feel at all weird, and judging from the occasional kiss she felt him brush against her hair, Dean apparently felt the same.

Dean exhaled deeply, "Story goes that these guys tried to start some kind of revolt against Lucifer, who managed to knock up some hell hound between trying to destroy the world and being a major pain in God's ass."

Jo sat up straighter and shook her head as if she'd misheard, "What?"

"Yeah," Dean smirked, clearly still in a state of disbelief himself, "Satan's a Daddy."

"Didn't see that one coming," Jo said, head cocked and brow furrowed, "never had him pegged as the paternal type."

"Well, his kid, Leila…"

Jo interrupted with a snort of laughter that drew the attention of several hunters in the vicinity. Dean smiled and nodded.

"The primal demons served as her army and when they failed in their attempt to try to overthrow Lucifer, he banished his daughter to purgatory and the demons here," Dean revealed, watching Jo's face for her reaction. She remained quietly thoughtful, her gaze trained on the ground as she turned the information over in her mind.

"Where exactly is 'here'?" Jo inquired after a pause, glancing around the yard and then back at Dean. She had noticed certain attributes of their location that were bizarre to say the least, such as the sudden and dramatic changes in climate from scorching heat one minute to gusting, icy winds the next. However, Jo had been at a loss to come up with any real theories on the matter.

"Parallel dimension," Dean answered, and from his pained expression it was evident to Jo that there was nothing behind the statement that he comprehended in any depth. She elected to move on to more familiar territory to Dean.

"How do we kill the ugly mother… suckers…" Jo said, curbing her language at the last second with an impish grin. Dean noted the sparkle that had returned to Jo's eyes, and resisted the urge to lean forwards and kiss her again.

"We're uh... we're still working on that part, but personally I'm gonna go for beheading and general dismemberment."

Jo rolled her eyes and shook her head at him disparagingly, "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture or anything Dean but, you hauled your ass to a... parallel dimension, sweet talked a bunch of demons into holding you prisoner and... you don't know how to kill them?"

"Well, when you put it like that..." Dean grinned charmingly, hoping to disarm her with his smile. When his attempt at humour failed, he shrugged and absently across the yard, struggling to come up with an excuse that would not involve having to discuss his feelings.

"Did you do this because of my Mom?" Jo pressed, her voice betraying her emotions as the mention of her mother left her eyes smarting with unshed tears.

Dean watched her rub at her eyes and then smile at him, reassuring him that she would not break down.  
He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze and rested his chin on the crown of her head. "Jo, I made that promise to Ellen because she asked me to and it was the right thing to do," he admonished, clearing his throat in discomfort as he tried to avoid catching her eye, "but I'm here because I want to be."

"I guess I'm glad you are," Jo said after a beat, smile growing as Dean slipped her hand within his own. His skin was rough and calloused against hers; he had the hands of a man who was not afraid of a hard day's work.

"Now we just gotta sit tight and wait for Sammy and Cas to do their thing," said Dean, shooting a glance at the demon on guard. "Security's pretty tight here. We'll need to be ready when the time comes."

Jo nodded but did not reply as she sat nibbling on her bottom lip.

"Don't look so worried Jo," Dean murmured, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard, "Sam will come through for me. He always does."

x-x-x

"You let him wander into a compound full of primal demons?" Castiel repeated, his eyes blazing with untold anger as he gazed upon Sam. The angel had been echoing the same question for the last minute or so and Sam was growing quickly bored with answering it.

"I didn't _let_ him do anything," he replied tersely, emphasising the key word in his sentence, "you know how Dean gets when he has an idea in his head. What was I supposed to do? Shoot him?"

"That would have been preferable to this," spat Castiel, seething with the kind of quiet fury that he specialised in. "A bullet hole or even several I can heal. Disembowelment may prove more difficult."

Sam folded his arms across his chest and sighed in defeat, "Alright, well, what do we do now?"

"You are asking me?" Castiel blanched. Usually he simply tagged along with whatever idiotic idea the brothers formulated. Having to aid the invention of said idea was entirely new territory for Castiel. He closed his eyes and attempted to focus in on Dean and Jo. Mercifully, despite the sigils daubed on the stone walls, he was able to locate them with relative ease.

"Fortunately they are alive and unharmed for the moment," he announced, watching Sam breathe a visible sigh of relief.

"Okay, so we set up camp and we wait it out until morning," Sam stated, frowning as he saw Castiel's expression darken considerably. "Cas? Is there something I should know about?"

Free from the bounds of tact and diplomacy, Castiel nodded, "I am only permitted to remain here for twenty-four hours. If we cannot retrieve Dean and Jo within that time, I am afraid I cannot be of further assistance and they will be forced to remain in this dimension. I have 'borrowed' power to get us here."

Sam stared at Castiel aghast. The angel gazed levelly back at the youngest Winchester, his arms straight at his sides and his expression impassive. His trench coat tails flapped in the sudden chill wind that rose up around them.

"You couldn't have told us that a half hour ago?" Sam demanded, running both hands simultaneously through his hair and groaning.

"You did not ask," replied Castiel, characteristically failing to detect the sarcasm in Sam's voice. Sam sighed and threw Cas a withering glance that also escaped his notice.

"Fine," Sam muttered through clenched teeth, "then I guess we have less time than we thought to work out how to get ourselves out of this mess."

"If I may be objective, I do not believe I had any part in getting us into this mess," Cas reflected, sitting down abruptly on the ground as he mimicked Sam's actions.

Sam glowered at Castiel, "If Dean had known there was a time limit on this little field trip, maybe he'd have thought twice about handing himself over to the enemy without a plan in place first."

Castiel paused momentarily to consider Sam's point and then shook his head, "Dean is in love with Jo, is he not? From what I have seen, humans can be reckless in such situations. I do not believe his actions would have been any different had he know of the time limitation."

"You can't say that," Sam bit back, his annoyance peaked, "you never even gave him the choice, Cas. He'd do whatever would give us the best chance of rescuing those people in there, even if that meant staying out here, with us."

"If you say so," Castiel nodded, failing to register the infuriated glare he received from Sam.

"We're getting them back Cas, no matter what. So you can tell your angel buddies up there that your ass is staying put until Dean and Jo are safe, and all the other hunters they've got holed up in there too."

Castiel remained silent. He was not sure that he would ever truly understand human loyalty in its entirety, but he realised at least that the Winchesters were perfect examples of the concept. They were intriguing humans to be around and almost daily Castiel found himself surprised by the lengths each would go to for the sake of that one, seemingly insignificant word; loyalty.

Here was Dean risking his life for a woman he loved yet to whom he could not bring himself to say the words, whilst Sam was choosing to defend his brother's skewed logic to the last. Indeed, humans were complex and utterly confusing creatures.

Castiel sat back on his heels and settled in for a long, drawn out night of waiting.


	8. Chapter Seven

**A.N. – By now, you're pretty certain this fic is a collab with WelshWitch1011. You're also pretty certain that we love reviews, maybe even more than chocolate. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, and also read, so far.**

**Chapter Seven**

The captive hunters had adopted a system whereby the latest arrivals would sit in shifts to watch over the others as they slept. It had taken Dean less time than he had expected to convince Jo that he would take the first watch. The blonde hunter had been characteristically eager to prove a help but after arguing for ten minutes that Jo had only just been released from hospital, Dean had invariably won. Duke had backed him up all the way until Jo had decided to relent with a dramatic sigh and a protruding bottom lip. Apparently, the argument had exhausted her but Dean knew that had she been at full strength, he would likely have been the one to cave.

Dean sat with his back against the corner wall of the yard; Jo slumped against his chest, breathing softly. She slept with her lips slightly parted and her hair falling in waves across one side of her face. Despite the dire nature of the situation, Dean though he had never seen her look so peaceful. She had not flinched once in her sleep thus far, as she had done numerous times every night since Carthage. Dean knew this due to the vigils he had kept by her bedside before she had been released from hospital. He had proven an instant hit with the nursing night staff, all of whom were more than willing to provide him with endless cups of coffee, sandwiches, and company. However, Dean had been far too concerned for Jo to pay much attention to any of the woman who came by. It was then that he had truly begun to realise the extent of his feelings.

Duke was positioned at his side, propped against the now icy cold stone wall, eyes closed but evidently still awake. Dean regarded the older man thoughtfully for a moment before deciding to make a stab at conversation. The demon keeping watch in the guard tower had barely moved for the last thirty minutes and Dean was beginning to tire of his surveillance.

"Can't sleep?" he whispered, laying one hand on Duke's shoulder so that the man would know that the question was directed at him.

Duke opened his eyes and rubbed wearily at his forehead, shaking his head in reply as he stared out across the sleeping bodies of the hunters, "Nope."  
Dean nodded, leaning his head back against the wall and glancing up at the strangely blank night sky. There was no moon nor any stars to illuminate the darkness, and the flickering flames of the torches positioned high up on the walls was the only source of light.  
"You know if you want to catch a little shut-eye, I can take over your watch..." Duke offered, pulling the sides of his shirt together and shivering against an icy breeze that suddenly howled across the enclosure.  
Dean smiled gratefully but shook his head, "I'm good, thanks Duke."  
Duke nodded in understanding, glancing momentarily at Jo's slumbering form. Her hand gripped the fabric of Dean's shirt even in sleep and he could not help but notice the way Dean held her to his chest, whispering to her softly each time she stirred. He thought about home and the woman waiting there for him and a familiar ache settled on his heart.

"So, is she your girl?" Duke asked, knowing enough of Dean's reputation to be more than a little concerned. Although Jo would not welcome his interference and certainly had no need for his protection, Duke felt an almost paternal duty to warn any of Jo's potential suitors of the perils of breaking her heart.

Dean sighed and then shrugged, seemingly at a loss to find the words to sum up the newly forming relationship.

"I think I love her," he finally murmured after some time had passed in silence. Duke nodded, his jaw set and his expression unreadable.

"I think she'd do you a lot of good," Duke admonished, smiling at Dean and shooting a glance at Jo, who mumbled something incoherent in her sleep.

"I think she will too," replied Dean, his gaze trained unwaveringly on Jo's face. "I guess we got a lot of work to do first though."

"Let's hope that brother of yours comes through," Duke nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and shooting Dean an amused smirk, "although from what I hear, you boys get the job done."  
Dean seemed strangely pensive, his eyes wandering over the sleeping woman in his arms until they came to rest on her side. The edge of her shirt had ridden up just high enough so that the trace of a deep, angry claw mark was visible.

"So, what else do you hear?" Dean asked, trying not to focus on Carthage. He wondered if he would ever overcome the guilt he felt at Ellen's senseless death, or if Jo would ever come to truly forgive him; he was not entirely sure he deserved her forgiveness. Besides, he had always been a little curious as to other hunter's perceptions of the infamous Winchester brothers. The little he had heard had not been complimentary. Duke shrugged, fishing in his pocket for a cigarette.

"Oh, this and that. You got an eye for the ladies," he paused and fished a small book of matches from his shoe, "do I need to give you the 'I'll kick your ass if you hurt her' talk?"

Dean smiled, shaking his head at both the question and the cigarette Duke offered him.

"No sir," said Dean, watching as Duke raised the cigarette to his lips.

"Been saving these just in case they come in handy," Duke muttered in a hushed whisper, "but I figure the one won't hurt."

Duke struck the match off the stone wall and quickly used it to light the end of his cigarette. He extinguished the flame and buried the match beneath a pile of dirt in one fluid motion. Dean kept his eyes trained all the while on the demonic guard, only looking away once he was satisfied that Duke's actions had gone unnoticed.

"What does Ellen think of the two of you knockin' boots?" Duke inquired with a throaty chuckle as he breathed a puff of smoke from his open mouth.

Dean avoided the older man's gaze and stared down at the ground. He wondered why Jo had not told Duke about Ellen's death. He assumed she had simply not wanted to talk about it. Dean found that denial was sometimes the only way to hold himself together and similarly Jo never liked to share her emotions.  
"She uh..." Dean began quietly, releasing a shaky breath and finally looking up to meet Duke's gaze. The older man turned away, leaning his head back against the wall and staring intently at the flickering flames of the torch above them.

"Ellen's dead." It was a statement rather than a question. Duke's eyes ticked to Jo's side; he remembered hearing talk of the Harvelles joining the Winchesters on a hunt, and suddenly Jo's earlier evasiveness made sense.

"When?"

"About a week ago," Dean said hoarsely, looking away as he recognised the glisten of unshed tears within Duke's eyes. He knew enough of the man to realise that he had classed Ellen Harvelle as one of his dearest friends. They had met through Bill, or so Dean believed, and Ellen had even babysat for the younger of Duke's children on occasion.

"She go out fighting?" Duke stubbed out his cigarette and stared absently up at the night sky.

"Until the end," Dean nodded, a lump forming rapidly in his throat. Duke seemed to find some comfort in the knowledge and he nodded wordlessly.

"I hope you plan on doing right by that girl, Winchester," said Duke, his tone gruff as his eyes snapped to Dean's features. He appeared somewhat taken aback by the conviction behind Duke's words but Dean nodded.

"I do," was his only reply as his grip tightened unconsciously around Jo's body. Although she slept on, a frown twisted across Jo's lips and Dean loosened his hold on her, realising that his fingers had likely been digging into her shoulder.

"She's been through a lot," Duke observed, although this time he directed nothing of the statement towards Dean.

Dean simply nodded, eyeing the guards carefully before he turned to Duke and shot him what he hoped would be construed as a reassuring smile, "I won't let her down."

Duke appeared to mull over his promise and then patted the younger man's shoulder in confidence, "I believe you, son." There was a discernable twinkle in his eyes as he gestured to their surroundings, "I ain't never seen a man talk his way into trouble before."

Dean arched an eyebrow in response, "You'd be surprised what I can talk myself into."

"Yeah, you got your old man's smart mouth, that's for sure," Duke allowed, struggling to stand up and brush the dust from his pants, "but you could do worse than take after John Winchester. Hell of a hunter."

Duke rolled his shoulder and winced at the pain in his joints, "Yes sir, one hell of a hunter. He was a good guy and don't let anyone tell you otherwise, kid."

"Thanks Duke," Dean murmured, a faint look of nostalgia crossing his face at Duke's words.

"I'm going to stretch my legs," said Duke, grumbling as his knees audibly clicked. "Rae's right. I'm getting too old for this. Damned demons… I ought to be enjoying my retirement."

Dean watched Duke hobble off to complete a circuit of the enclosure with an amused smile playing across his lips. It took him several seconds to realise that Jo had awoken in his arms and was now stretching tentatively to ease the cramp from her muscles.

"What time is it?" Jo mumbled, rubbing at her eyes with balled fists and peering up at Dean through the darkness. Glancing at his watch, Dean frowned and noted that the hands appeared to have stopped moving around the face at around the moment they had arrived in this dimension.

"Wish I could tell you," said Dean, gesturing to his watch.

Jo sighed and simply let her head fall back gently against his chest. She glanced up at him as she felt his arms wrap around her once again and for a few moments they sat in a companionable silence until her curiosity got the better of her.

"Can I ask you something?" her voice was barely above a whisper and Dean noted with slight trepidation how she avoided his gaze. She did not await a reply however, and her hand began to sweep tentatively over his chest as she stumbled over her words.  
"Does this, I mean... why isn't this weird?" Jo stammered. Dean watched her brow furrow as she paused and gestured between them. "This... us… now. Why doesn't it feel weird? It should, right?"

It had not been the question Dean had expected and he was yet again at a loss for words.  
Instead, he said the only thing that came to mind and hoped it would somehow assuage her, "Because... it's you and me, Jo."

"I guess I just never thought there would be an 'us'," said Jo rather matter-of-factly. "I'd kind of started to buy into that whole 'school girl' thing."

"I've never thought of you as a school girl," Dean interjected, cupping her chin in his hands and tilting her face upwards. He added with a humorous smile, "And I've checked out your ass so many times, I'm kind of concerned you ever thought of me as a big brother."

"Please," Jo replied, screwing her nose up in disdain. "I've never thought of you like that. You were more… an unwelcome pain in my ass."

"Hey," said Dean indignantly, hiding a smirk as he watched Jo dissolve into giggles. It was good to see her laugh again and seemingly carefree even just for a moment, and Dean refused to shatter that for anything. He added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, "But you're not denying you thought about me."

A blush rose on the apple of Jo's cheeks but she affixed a no-nonsense look upon her face before replying to Dean.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she bit back, folding her arms across her chest as she watched Dean's expression intently.

A wolfish smile appeared on his face as he leant closer, allowing his lips to linger dangerously close to hers. He brushed his knuckles across her cheek in a tender gesture and a moment later Jo found herself sinking into another languid kiss. They parted to catch their breath and Dean stole the moment to peer down at her, seemingly taking in every inch of her face. A characteristically cocky smile twitched at his lips as he guided her mouth closer to his, "I think I just got my answer."

Jo winced in playful disdain and pressed her finger to his lips to halt the kiss, "You're not gonna try that 'last night on earth' line on me again are you, Dean?"

Dean shrugged and enclosed his hand around hers, pulling her finger gently from his lips. He claimed a quick kiss and brushed the tip of his nose against hers, "Why, would it work?"

Jo swatted at him, "What do you think?"

She glanced pointedly at the other hunters that surrounded them and Dean shrugged in unwilling agreement. He brushed the pad of his thumb over Jo's bottom lip, finding with satisfaction that her lips were pleasantly pink and swollen from his kisses

Jo flinched as he gazed down at her with an intensity that almost made her breathing shallow, "Dean?"

"I want this- I want this to be something," he frowned at his own ineloquence.

"Right place, right time?" Jo smiled faintly as recognition flashed across his features and he nodded in reply.

Jo immediately saw the irony as she looked around them; demons, dead bodies, parallel dimensions, the sense of impending doom. It figured this was how it would happen between them.

"I'll never hurt you Jo," said Dean, leaning towards her in earnest, eyes sweeping her features as he sought out her belief in his words. Jo remained impassive and Dean grew quietly frustrated.

"Is that what you say to all the girls?" she asked, her head cocked to one side in questioning. An odd smile flitted across her lips and Dean wondered whether Jo truly believed that anything could develop between them.

"You're not all the girls," he promised, and his voice rang out with such startling clarity and conviction that Jo simply blinked in surprise. It was true that Dean had a reputation as a player but he was also an honest man. He seldom said anything he did not mean or at least believe to be true, and although his reputation was warranted he was in no way cruel.

The simple fact was that Dean had spent so much of his life traveling that a stable relationship had proven far too elusive to even begin to covet. Instead, Dean had set his sights on more attainable goals; such as fast food, the occasional game of pool with a cold beer at hand, and every now and then someone to share his loneliness with.

"Why now, Dean?" She made no attempt to move from his arms, which he hoped was a good sign. However, secretly Jo was scared; afraid that Dean was misreading his own feelings after all that had happened in Carthage or worse still that he viewed her as accessible. Yet the more she thought over his recent actions, and the emotion clearly conveyed in his eyes, she found herself starting to believe that Dean wanted something more; that for some reason, she was different to all the other girls.

Jo watched him swallow nervously and his hand shook ever so slightly against her cheek as he faltered, "Because I almost lost you. And it made me realise that life's too short, Jo. And if we wait for the 'right place' and the 'right time' we could miss out on something that could be_... that could be everything_."

"I just need honesty," said Jo softly, holding Dean's eyes with her own. He nodded his understanding and shifted to adjust his position as Jo relaxed back into his arms once again, her cheek resting on his chest.

"I'll always give you that."

Jo knew that such an exchange was doubtlessly hard for Dean, who had been raised to regard emotion as more of a weakness than anything else. Jo knew that she could be accused of the very same. Hunters were required to be strong and to maintain the façade, or the job would chew them up and spit them out. Dean had learned most of what he knew from his father; a man broken by grief and self-loathing, who had found himself unable to function beyond the basest of levels in the wake of his wife's death.

As a child, Dean had sworn to himself that he would never feel for a woman the way his father had for his mother. To love in that way was to leave oneself open to pain beyond imagining, and Dean had had more than his fill of hurt for one lifetime. In retrospect, Dean knew that had been the cowards way out and he did not want to waste another minute of the future, no matter how long that might be.

Jo stifled a yawn as the events of the last week began to catch up with her. Dean felt her chest rise and fall against his as she released a long held sigh.  
"Go back to sleep, sweetheart," Dean brushed his lips against her earlobe. As he watched her eyelids flutter closed his thoughts turned to his earlier conversation with Duke. Dean wrapped Jo tight in his arms once again, wondering how he had talked himself out of taking this leap of faith for so long. He recalled the old hunter's question with a smile and brushed a final kiss against Jo's blonde mane.

There was no doubt in his mind now, she was his girl.


	9. Chapter Eight

**A.N. – This fic is a collaboration between WelshWitch1011 and Silverspoon. I can't think of another witty way to beg for reviews, so please just leave one, ok? Thanks!**

**Chapter Eight**

Dawn was beginning to break, but in this dimension it was accompanied by strange feral snarls as opposed to birdsong. Light seemed to filter across the sky from both the east and west, and Sam eventually noticed the reason for this; two suns rising simultaneously. He supposed that this also explained the punishing heat of the day that had left his clothes soaked through with sweat.

Sam had been unable to sleep all night and since Castiel was not required to do so, they had simply sat in silence to mull over the predicament at hand. Not a single solution had presented itself to Sam's mind and from the expression on Cas' face, he assumed the same applied to the angel.

For the last fifteen minutes Sam had been scratching sigils in the dirt with a thin stick in an attempt to jog his memory into finding one that could help them. His frustration was mounting with the passage of time until finally Sam found that he could take no more of the silence and air of defeat that already hung over them.

"Isn't there anything the other angels can do to help?" Sam demanded, snapping the stick angrily in half and tossing both pieces into the mass of trees behind them. Castiel shook his head.

"I am afraid that they have done all they are able to," he answered, his tone genuinely rueful.

Sam huffed and curled his legs into his chest in order to rest his chin on his knees.

"Why bother to help at all then?" growled Sam, his eyes narrowed in annoyance as he regarded Castiel. The angel had been seated on a tree stump unmoving for most of the night and Sam's patience was now beginning to wear thin with the angel's seemingly calm attitude.

"Would you prefer if we had not?" Castiel countered, his head cocked to one side in puzzlement as he returned Sam's stare with equal weight.

"All I'm saying is, why did they agree to help if they were going to put a time limit on things?" Sam watched Castiel closely, his curiosity awakened as he saw an odd, almost guilty expression cross the angel's face. "Cas?"

Clearly Castiel knew more than he had mentioned, and celestial beings keeping secrets from him made Sam more than a little uneasy.

Cas sighed and eventually turned his gaze to Sam, "Because Joanna has a destiny to fulfill. They would prefer she not die here."

"Well I'm sure she'd prefer that too, but what do you mean, she has a 'destiny'? And don't bullshit me Cas, I want the truth."

"You are beginning to sound like your brother," Castiel eyed him irritably but decided to impart what little information he knew. In his experience there was barely any point in arguing with a Winchester when they became irrational.

"She will be important in the final fight," Castiel stated elusively, frowning as Sam raised his eyebrows and folded his arms across his chest, awaiting the rest of the apparently angelic prophecy.

"And?"

Castiel glanced up at the heavens and then nodded silently as if first seeking permission to continue, "As will their children."

Sam shook his head as though he had somehow misheard, "Wait, what? Children?"

Castiel remained quiet, allowing Sam to process this new information.

"Children - Dean and Jo? You mean, they're... they'll... wow," Sam sat down heavily on the nearest tree stump and rubbed his hands over his face. "So wait, is this like a cupid thing? Like Mom and Dad?"

Castiel shook his head, "There has been no intervention. Dean and Joanna simply found each other."

"And if they hadn't?" Sam demanded, anger bubbling to the surface, "What then? You'd have sent down a cherub to shoot them both in the ass?"

"Why does this anger you?" inquired Castiel, confusion clouding his features. He had always viewed love as one of the most positive forces in the human world and he found it difficult to understand why both Dean and Sam seemed irritated by the prospect of more of it being injected into their lives.

"Because people should have a choice in their own lives," Sam retorted. He was struggling now to lower his voice in order to prevent from being overheard by the demons that regularly patrolled the perimeter of the camp.

"And both Dean and Jo have made theirs," said Castiel, "without the help of the heavens, they have embraced their destinies."

"So, you're telling me that everything that happens between them in the future is of their own free will?" Sam's expression was dubious. He found it hard to believe that the angels or some other higher power had not tweaked Dean's future for their own means. They had intervened in almost every other aspect of their lives thus far.

Castiel could not understand why Sam would be so irate at being told his brother would have happiness in his life.  
"The heavens have played no part in this particular union," Castiel repeated, "they have simply met and fallen in love, as many humans do."

Sam appeared to finally believe him and he nodded thoughtfully, suddenly raising his eyes imploringly to Castiel, "Just tell me Cas. Tell me Jo's not gonna end up like Mom, or Jess." He blinked as her name left his lips and he felt the familiar sensation of his throat closing up around it.

"The outcome of Jo's life is subject to certain choices," Castiel stated slowly and seemingly carefully, "but I believe that hers is to be a long and happy one, should fate play out accordingly."

Sam released the breath that he suddenly realised he had been holding. The air escaped him in a hiss that deflated his chest and Sam sagged a little. Dean had once remarked that any woman unfortunate enough to become tangled up with a Winchester man was on borrowed time. Sam had never truly believed those words until recently, after events with Madison and now Jo had concreted the idea.

"You are to tell Dean nothing of this conversation," Castiel said, his expression immediately stern as though he were chiding a small child. Sam found himself nodding in earnest.

"Oh, believe me Cas, I wouldn't dream of it," he replied, grimacing as he imagined broaching the subject of destiny with Dean who was all too convinced that they would lose the impending fight with both Michael and Lucifer. However, reflecting on Castiel's words Sam could not help but feel a little hopeful that things may just turn out for the best.

Castiel seemed perplexed as a smile gradually broke out on Sam's face. He frowned at the human in confusion.  
Sam ran a hand through his hair, laughing by way of explanation as he murmured, "No, I just never thought I'd be an uncle."

Cas nodded as though in understanding, yet his expression betrayed him; his lack of comprehension at the strangely sentimental smile that Sam now wore was obvious.

"Perhaps it would be best if we focused on how exactly we are to proceed," Castiel suggested, uncomfortable with the display of emotion he felt may perhaps be looming.

Sam was overcome with relief at Castiel's promise. His brother had taken on the role of raising him almost from the second their mother had died and, as their father's grief overcame him, it was Dean who had assumed responsibility for his younger sibling. Sam would never be able to understand the emotional and physical demands this had placed on Dean, who had after all been no more than a child himself. Sam was thrilled to hear that happiness and something that resembled a near normal life awaited his brother. He genuinely liked Jo and believed that if asked to select a partner for his brother, he could not have picked a more perfect match than her. They were alike in so many ways and even their differences somehow complimented each other.

"Ok, let's get to work Cas," Sam said, suddenly sitting bolt upright and affixing the bemused angel with a determined stare. "We need a plan."

**x-x-x**

The hunters had awoken with the dawn, each rising to stretch their still weary and ever aching muscles. Both Dean and Jo were among them, and they milled about the yard together discussing in hushed tones a possible plan of escape. Although Dean had every faith in his brother, he was not eager to assume that Sammy would be able to find him a way out of this one. However, so far, their collective brains had come up with little other than launching a surprise attack on the guards when the immense gate was next opened. The casualties of this plan would likely be numerous and it was certain that other demons would rally round to help. It was an idea that in truth both Dean and Jo had dismissed over ten minutes ago, yet simply discussing it was necessary to allow them to feel as though they were being constructive.

"You think Sam has come up with anything better?" Jo mused, leaning against the wall and folding her arms across her chest.

"Let's hope so," Dean ran a hand through his hair and tried not to let his defeatist thoughts overcome him. They were going to get out of there; he just was not entirely sure how.

"He will," replied Jo, forcing a smile that did not reach all the way to her eyes and lacked any real conviction. "He's Sam."

"Yeah," Dean agreed, his tone uncertain, "sure. He's Sam."

The two exchanged worried glances, Jo nibbling at her bottom lip and Dean's eyes roving the yard desperately as though some solution may lie within his sights.

Jo opened her mouth to speak when a sudden rattling from over by the gate stole her worried gaze. Dean's eyes followed Jo's to the meaty demon that was unlocking the enclosure, flanked by several armed companions. Dean instantly seized Jo's hand in his own and ushered her towards the farthest corner of the yard. They pressed their backs against the wall, eyes trained unwaveringly on the primal demons as they stomped their way through the throng of somewhat subdued hunters.

Dean noticed Duke standing to the left of the gate and when their eyes met, the older man's expression was fearful. Dean swallowed hard and hoped to God that whatever or whoever the demons were looking for would be located quickly.

He watched them pick their way through the group, their gazes simultaneously coming to rest on the figure beside him. Dean's heart began to pound in his chest as he realised the demons were headed toward Jo. Her eyes widened in horror and she glanced hurriedly around the enclosure. It was clear to her that there seemed to be no chance of escape and any attempt at fighting the demons off would prove to be little more than suicidal.

Dean stepped in front of Jo, sheltering her body behind his as the demons marched toward the couple. The blades of their swords and spears glistened in the early morning light.  
Dean muttered under his breath, his jaw clenching as he too realised the futility in their situation; yet he was not about to stand by and watch Jo get hurt.

Images of the hell hound attack were still fresh in his mind and he could not bear the idea of history repeating itself. No matter how pointless his resistance might be, they were going to have to go through him first.

Dean caught Duke's eye from across the yard and it appeared that a couple of the younger hunters had laid restraining hands upon his arms. Dean glowered at the men, whose cowardice disgusted him. Although Jo was far from incapable it was clear to all that she was wounded, and thanks to the Roadhouse both she and Ellen had been known to almost all of them. Dean would have expected at least a small degree of loyalty and yet the majority of the hunters in the yard appeared to be averting their gazes.

"Dean…" Jo murmured, resting a hand on Dean's arm as the demons drew to a halt before them. The creatures cocked their heads simultaneously as their faintly reptilian eyes came to rest upon Jo's face. She struggled to control her own heartbeat which pounded relentlessly in her ears. Dean refused to budge so much as an inch, his feet rooted to the spot before her in a clearly protective and some may say, suicidal gesture.

"Don't," Jo quietly urged, sliding her hand down Dean's arm and briefly clasping his hand.

The demons circled them, one motioning towards Jo in a gesture that suggested she should go with them. Jo inhaled slowly and took an uncertain step forwards.

Dean refused to move, blinking in both horror and surprise as Jo stepped out from behind him and placed her hand in the centre of his chest, "Just figure out a way to get us out of here. I'll be okay."

She whispered her final sentence before leaning up and pressing a reassuring kiss against Dean's lips. Dean clasped her hand, trying to pull her back but she slipped her fingers from his grasp and simply stared back at him.  
"Jo, no!" he shouted, watching as one of the demons placed a scaly hand on her shoulder and began to lead her away.

Jo frowned as suddenly the demons halted in their tracks, drawing her to a standstill alongside them. The other hunters had cleared a path before the demons, clearly afraid of being unlucky enough to be selected themselves. Jo halted and shot a curious glance at the demon at her side, who she found to be staring straight ahead in an unblinking manner. Jo followed his gaze to the largest of the demons, whose amber eyes were trained on her.

Involuntarily, Jo shuddered under the creature's scrutiny and yet somehow found the courage to glare back at the thing through narrowed, furious eyes. Jo could almost hear Dean mentally willing her not to provoke the demons and yet Jo could not help herself; if she was going down, she was sure as hell dishing out a ton of attitude first.

"What are you looking at fugly?" she demanded, tilting her chin upwards in a defiant gesture that almost caused Dean heart failure.

"Jo…" he warned, his tone cautious and his body tensed like a coiled spring. It was obvious to all that should the demons make a move to hurt Jo, then Dean would leap to her defense, consequences be damned.

Jo folded her arms across her chest and glared at each of the demons around her in turn, waiting for them to make their move with her lips set in a grim line.  
The larger demon stepped forward and extended an arm towards her. It placed a scaly hand upon her forehead, lips curving into a bizarre smile as Jo struggled furiously. The two demons that flanked the hunter grasped her arms in order to restrain her but Jo did not give up easily.

"Get off of her!" Dean yelled, his eyes blazing with fury as he attempted to reach her side and instead found himself held down by three of the creatures. Jo seemed now to be almost transfixed and remained unmoving whilst the demon leered down at her.

Dean called out her name repeatedly, thrashing under the unrelenting grasp of his own captors. He watched in horror as a light spread from the palm of the creature's hand and Jo's eyes rolled back in her head.

After several seconds had elapsed, the demons that held Jo abruptly released her arms and she dropped to her knees on the ground, breathing heavily. Before Dean could truly register the fact that he too had been freed, the demons were already locking the gate behind them. Wasting no more time, Dean sped to Jo's side and dropped down onto the dirt. He glanced up as he noted that Duke had managed to fight his way through the crowd and was now staring down at Jo with a concerned expression darkening his features.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded aloud, although he knew that Duke would likely be as clueless as either he or Jo. "Are you okay, Jo?"

Jo failed to respond, instead running both hands through her hair and screwing both eyes tight closed as though suddenly encapsulated by a migraine.

"Jo?" Dean repeated, laying his hands over Jo's and forcing her to meet his gaze. Her eyelids finally flickered open and when they did Dean noted that her pupils had grown impossibly wide.

"Jo?" he shook her shoulders, hauling her up against his chest and frantically brushing her hair out of her face to try to get her attention.

"My head..." she groaned, rubbing her forehead where the creature's hand had been and wincing at the headache that now throbbed viciously at her temples.

Dean helped her sit up and stared down at her in confusion. She appeared unharmed and yet he knew that could not be the case.  
"Are you okay? Do you know where you are?" Dean frowned as Jo only rolled her eyes at his question before cautiously sitting up.

She blinked rapidly against the light that she now found unbearably bright.  
"I got zapped by a demon Dean, I don't have a concussion," she snapped, relenting a little once she saw the concern etched on his face. "I feel ok. Aside from a major headache now."

"What in the world was that all about?" Duke mused aloud, coming to stand next to Dean and watching Jo with interest. Jo shrugged, her eyes sweeping the faces of the other hunters who now surrounded their small group. The expressions they wore were suspicious and some even peered at Jo with apparent fear shining in their eyes.

"I don't know," replied Jo, averting her gaze from the hunters and instead focusing her attention on Duke's far more friendly face as she clambered to her feet.

_Man, look at the ass on her…_

The sentence broke through Jo's thoughts as clear as a bell, and she suddenly whirled to face the guilty hunter with a furious snarl.

"What did you just say?" Jo demanded, her brown eyes blazing. The hunter, who Jo believed was named Matthew, took a small step backwards and swallowed hard.

"I didn't say nothin'," he answered, chin raised in an act of defiance although the rest of his body language indicated his fear. Jo may have been small but what she lacked in height she more than made up for in temper, and this was a fact well known by any who had encountered her before.

"You were checking out my ass!" she exclaimed, her tone indignant and her arms folded as she scrutinised Matthew. His mouth dropped open and he shook his head vehemently.

"Jo… he didn't say anything," Dean confirmed, although his suspicious gaze was now locked on Matthew's face. Dean eyed the other hunter in annoyance; leering at his girlfriend was not going to score any points. If anybody was going to be having those kinds of thoughts about the woman, it damn well better just be him.

Jo almost instantly spun on her heel to look at Dean, her brow furrowed in surprise. "Girlfriend?" she arched an eyebrow and awaited his response, wondering when they had officially become such an item and how she had managed to miss the proverbial memo.

"Well, I..." Dean stammered, blinking and shaking his head in bewilderment. He was almost certain he had not said that out loud.

Duke backed off and allowed them their privacy, or what little could be afforded given their current circumstances. He watched as Dean carefully escorted Jo over to a vacant corner.  
"Jo, I never said that... not... out loud, anyway," Dean argued, watching as she sighed and began to rub her forehead irritably.

"Well I sure as hell heard it, so if you didn't say it..." she paused suddenly, wincing as a sharp throb permeated her skull and she gritted her teeth.

Dean reached out and gently ushered her hand away from her head. He brushed his thumb gently over her warm skin, pressing a little harder against her temples as she closed her eyes.

"Dean Winchester!" Jo suddenly yelped, slapping at Dean's chest and affixing him with an accusatory glare. She dropped her voice to a barely audible hiss as she added, "How can you think of sex at a time like this?"

"Wait? What?" Dean demanded, embarrassment colouring his cheeks suddenly as he seized Jo's hand and pulled her closer into him. "I never… I didn't…"

The truth of the matter was that repeated physical contact with Jo was beginning to have an effect on Dean and he had figured that if they were indeed about to die, then it would hardly hurt to treat himself to the odd inappropriate thought. He was only human after all. He had not, however, said anything of the sort to Jo and nor would he dream of it; Dean valued his life and his assets and knew beyond all doubt that Jo would not hesitate in threatening either one of these should Dean cross a line.

He glanced back at the other hunters self consciously and lowered his voice to a whisper.

"I didn't say anything about... you know... that," he stated, realisation suddenly dawning on him, "I was _thinking_ about it."

Jo remained silent, the colour suddenly draining from her face as she realised that Dean was telling the truth. When she eventually spoke her words were tinged with fear, "Oh my God. What have they done to me?"

Dean shook his head helplessly, pulling her into his arms and hugging her tightly. He bunched her long blonde hair in his hand and pressed his lips against the top of her head, "It's okay, it's gonna be okay."

As far as Dean knew, no one had ever been harmed by the ability to read minds but given the things that he and Sam contended with on a daily basis, he had learned never to second guess an apparently bad situation. Dean held Jo against his chest and stroked her hair in the most soothing manner he could muster.

All the while, he was mentally singing _'Back in Black' _at the top of his lungs.


	10. Chapter Nine

**A.N. – This fic is a collaboration yadda yadda yadda. Love reviews yadda yadda blah blah…**

**Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far. **

**Chapter Nine**

Like the majority of evils in the world, she had been born of humanity.

The woman who had carried her had done so within a body ravaged by age, and Leila's very existence was a contradiction of the laws of nature. The woman in question had been a loyal servant of Lucifer's for many decades. She had not survived the brutal birth of the demon she had nurtured, and the witch's soul now resided somewhere within the fiery depths of hell; for her troubles, she was shown no more mercy than the last ill-fated mortal.

The catalyst for her creation had been the birth of Christ himself, although Leila had arrived one thousand years after. Enraged by his father's decision to create a human child in his own image, Lucifer had decided to conduct an experiment of his own. At first, he could not have hoped for a more favourable result than Leila.

And yet as the child grew, it became apparent that the evil Lucifer had so desired to create now yearned to overthrow him. Leila knew no loyalty and cared little for her parentage. In a fit of jealousy, Lucifer had strived to create a child that resembled him, and ultimately he had succeeded in his plan beyond his wildest imaginings. Leila was as ruthless as she was ambitious and, all too soon, the constraints of hell proved far too much for her to endure.

Consumed by thoughts of power and domination, Leila amassed a group of followers in her father's once loyal legion of demons. With false promises of glory and success over their creator, Leila led the primal demons to their eventual doom. The handful of survivors of the great battle were cast into another dimension to live as savages, just in case Lucifer were to ever find further use for them. As punishment for her betrayal, Leila was condemned to purgatory by the one who had first sought to give her life.

She had waited in limbo for almost a thousand years; a place where she had neither form nor true consciousness, and where time stretched infinitely onwards. Leila had grown unbearably bored with her imprisonment; not even the torment of the trapped human souls served to amuse her. Purgatory was nothing more than an endless blank canvas where the only sounds to reach her ears was the cries of those who had failed to move on; those who had realised their death too late to be taken into the light, and those too who preferred the agony of limbo to the alternative of hell. Leila would never fully understand the latter.

The longer Leila remained caged, the more her rage grew, and the worse the revenge she swore upon her father. When the time eventually arrived and Leila sensed the shift in power beginning to occur, she knew that it would not be long before her followers attempted to free her. She would be brought forth upon the Earth and humanity, and would rain destruction and death down upon anyone who got in the way of her plans to depose her father.

For the first time in centuries, Leila's spirits soared.

x-x-x

It was a cruel and unusual punishment, and Jo was not sure exactly how much more she could take. Between listening to the subconscious whining, bitching and occasionally suggestive comments of the hunters, and Dean's performance of AC/DC's entire back catalogue, Jo was about fit to scream.  
"Dean!" she snapped, poking him forcefully in the side and shooting him a thoroughly exasperated expression, "would you quit singing in your head? It's making me crazy."  
"I could move on to Black Sabbath's greatest hits if you'd prefer?" he grinned charmingly, hoping an attempt at humour would lighten her mood; apparently not.  
"Please, please stop singing, okay? I'd rather you just thought... Dean thoughts- whatever they may be," she added ruefully.  
Dean appeared to consider this for a moment before speaking, "Fine. But I should probably apologise in advance then because I'm a..."  
"Pervert?" she supplied, biting back a smile as she watched an utterly indignant expression settle on his face.  
"A guy," he corrected as he settled his arm about her waist and pinched her playfully.

"Same thing from my experience," Duke commented, frowning at Dean and Jo as he spoke. "With five daughters at home, all I can say is I'm real glad for my shotgun."

Dean chuckled, although there was something decidedly nervous about his countenance now. He crossed his legs and shot Duke a tentative smile.

_He's joking, right? He's gotta be joking. He's not joking._

"This is going to drive me insane," Jo groaned, gripping her hair in her hands and tugging on the ends of it in a despairing gesture. "Why the hell did they do this?"

"Be damned if I can figure it out," Duke replied, shooting a glance at the gate, which appeared for the moment to be unguarded. The watch tower was also vacant, and the hunters had begun to wonder what matters could possibly be detaining their captors.

Jo sat back against the cold stone wall and stared forlornly out across the group of hunters. She sighed as she was met with a chorus of disjointed inner monologues and ramblings.  
"I can't live like this, Dean," she said, resting her head on his shoulder and closing her eyes in an attempt to drown out the cacophony of thoughts inside her head.  
Dean glanced down at her sharply, suddenly realising the extent of the demon's handiwork. He grasped her hand and squeezed it until Jo met his gaze, "Hey, don't talk like that. We'll fix it."  
"How?" She laughed at the irony of the situation, "you know for years I was trying to figure out what was going on in that head of yours. Be careful what you wish for, huh?"  
Dean smiled and drew her in closer to his side, glancing at Duke who wore a similarly troubled expression.  
"We'll fix it," he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Hey guys, incoming," Duke warned in a low voice as the sound of a key being twisted in a rusty padlock coaxed his gaze towards the gate. Three demons, each armed and wearing some form of leather body armour, were entering the compound. The hunters standing alongside the gate recoiled and Dean thought that he could not blame them for their fear.

"Ah, hell," Dean muttered, jumping to his feet and pulling Jo up beside him. Her entire body tensed and Dean recognised the defensive stance that she eased into. Duke did likewise, standing his ground next to Dean and Jo, whilst the rest of the hunters drifted to various corners of the prison. They had all witnessed what the primal demons had done to Jo, and not one among them was eager for similar treatment.

Jo was unsurprised when the group of demons focused on her once more, beginning to march towards her in impressive unison. They really did behave like the remnants of a well-trained army.

The demons that flanked their leader proceeded to aim spears at Duke and Dean in a gesture of warning, yet curiously no such weapon was aimed at Jo.  
_"You will not be harmed."_  
Jo frowned and wheeled around in an attempt to locate the source of the booming voice. It was unbearably loud and insufferable, almost like nails against a chalkboard but with a decidedly more threatening feel to it.

Dean caught Jo's eye and shot her a confused look appeared to go unnoticed. It was not until the demon extended a hand toward her that realisation dawned. Jo felt her stomach sink as the demon locked eyes on her and something resembling a smile crossed it's hideous features.  
"Ahh, crap," Jo muttered, eyeing the creature with suspicion as it stared back at her. This was definitely not going to be good.

"What?" Dean demanded, wincing as the tip of the spear was pressed against his Adam's apple. He thought he felt the tiniest trickle of blood ooze from the point of the spear but he could not be certain.

"Leave him alone," said Jo, slowly and carefully emphasising each individual syllable. She was not sure whether the demons would understand the spoken word quite as well as telepathic communication, and so she thought her demand for good measure. She hoped that her mental command was filled with as much venom as she had managed to inject into her voice.

"_As you wish."_

The demon that seemed central to the group whipped it's gaze around to meet that of the demon wielding the spear at Dean's throat. A significant glance passed between the two and then the spear was lowered, Dean breathing an evident sigh of relief.

"The demons can hear my thoughts," Jo said quietly, folding her arms across her chest and peering at the demons with some interest.

"Yeah, good thing for them they can't hear mine," Dean snarled, his heart pounding in his chest. He was almost afraid to hear what they wanted with Jo, and the intent in the demon's eyes, as well as the strange air of solemnity they had adopted was starting to seriously concern him.

_"You have been chosen."_

The demon bowed his head reverently at the great honour they were about to bestow upon their captive.  
"Chosen?" Jo winced, "For what?"

Dean and Duke glanced sideways at each other, both now alarmed. The word 'chosen' did nothing to allay their mutual fears.

"What does that mean?" asked Dean, his eyes narrowing at the demons who were evidently unperturbed by his attentions.

"Would you shut up and let me find out?" Jo replied, shooting Dean an irritated glance which he deflected by raising both hands in front of himself. Jo cocked her head and directed her blunt tone towards the demons. "Chosen for what?"

"_To be the vessel."_

"Shit..." Jo muttered, chocolate brown eyes widening at the revelation. Dean's gaze was upon her again, his lips twisted into a frown, but Jo paid no mind to him for the moment.

"_You will be the flesh that brings her forth."_

Jo held up her hands and took a step backwards.

"Oh no, you got the wrong girl! I'm not bringing anything forth," she stated, a surge of panic suddenly overcoming her.

"Bring forth?" Dean's eyes widened, "bring forth what?"

"Dean, one more time!" she yelled irritably, her fists clenching at her sides. The demon seemed unphased by her refusal and simply nodded it's head. Clearly her agreement to such an 'honour' was not necessary and it seemed they were stating a predetermined fact, rather than asking for her approval.  
"I'm not being anybody's meat suit, okay?" she widened her eyes to convey her feelings on the subject and folded her arms across her chest to demonstrate her resolve.

"_We do not seek your permission or approval." _

If it was at all possible for thoughts to be sneered, Jo knew that the demon was now doing thus. However, she tossed her head and let out a derisive snort.

"You expect me to just sit back and go quietly?" she demanded, her expression one of utter contempt. "Please. I'm not going to be any demon's bitch."

"_To be selected as her vessel is the highest of honours."_

Jo settled both hands on the curve of her hips, her fury now in full swing.

"Her vessel?" Jo seethed, her lips twitching around the words. "By her you mean..."

"_The daughter of Darkness herself."_

"Daughter of darkness?" Jo chuckled dryly and found a shred of actual amusement in the puzzled expression that traveled across the demons disfigured face.

"Are you talking porn?" Dean asked askance, one eyebrow arched. Jo groaned inwardly and for the moment opted to ignore Dean.

"_Leila will devour your world, and all of humanity."_

"Yeah, yeah," Jo waved a dismissive hand, "the whole 'wipe out the world' shtick. Nothing we haven't heard before, right guys?"

"Great, just... great," Dean grumbled in response, envisioning another apocalypse to avert in the midst of the one he and Sam were currently trying to thwart.

"And what's with this whole sexist thing? What, you couldn't pick on one of the guys? You got thirty people locked up in here and you choose me because I'm a girl? What is that?" she screwed up her face and shook her head in exasperation, barely pausing for breath before she continued. "So you can tell your skanky girlfriend that she can find another willing chump, because she's not sashaying her nasty, black eyed ass anywhere near me!"

Jo was visibly seething, just about done with demons, hell-hounds or anything else of the supernatural variety that seemed determined to maim, kill or possess her that week.

"Woah, down girl," Dean quipped, suitably impressed by Jo's guts and also her display of unabashed wrath. At a single poisonous look from Jo, Dean was silenced. In that short second, Dean Winchester found himself glad that Jo currently had no access to weaponry of any kind.

The demons seemed to deliberate Jo's words before once again she found the thoughts of the leader pervading her own mind. She was growing tired of the intrusion but knew that there was little she could do to prevent it for the minute.

"_We will begin at twilight."_

"That movie blows," Jo snarled, her eyes flashing as she turned on her heel and stomped away from both the small circle of hunters, and the demons surrounding them. It was evident that Jo was incensed by the mental exchange, and as she stormed off to brood in the corner of the yard, the hunters underfoot scattered.

The demons withdrew from the prison, leaving the hunters alone once again. The gates closed with a resounding slam of metal against metal and the entire enclosure fell silent.  
Dean grinned inanely as he watched Jo pacing in the corner, "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen."  
He winced as he felt a sudden sharp slap across the back of his head and turned to see Duke strolling past, grunting his disapproval. Dean smiled weakly and jerked his thumb at Jo, indicating that he intended attempt to talk to her or else get yelled at for his efforts. Most probably, it would end up the latter.

Duke's eyes remained locked on Dean's back as he approached Jo, shoulders slumped and head ever so slightly bowed. It was evident that in Jo Harvelle, Dean had more than met his match, and Duke could not help but think that this shift of power would be good for the boy. Chuckling, Duke turned his attention away from the couple, affording them as much privacy as was possible.

"How you holding up?" Dean's voice trembled, nerves shining through in a way that Jo had witnessed only a handful of times before. Jo continued to trail her fingertips across the dirt and refrained from answering the question. Her mood was obvious and she was working hard not to explode at everyone around her.

"You really want me to answer that, Dean?" she did not bother meeting his gaze, but edged a little closer as he sat down next to her and hesitantly placed a hand on her knee.

"Jo..." he began softly, his head suddenly snapping up as she interrupted him.

"Dean, if you tell me it's gonna be okay, or that you're gonna somehow magically fix this..." she warned, trailing off as a suitable threat evaded her. Jo heaved a sigh as Dean reached across the gap between them in order to brush a wisp of hair from Jo's face. A small frown graced her features and she consented to peer up into his eyes.

"I can't hear your thoughts." She was startled by this, clearly.

"Guess I'm not really thinking about much right now," Dean replied in a hushed tone, caressing her cheek with his fingertips.  
The somewhat snarky reply Jo immediately thought of died on her lips as Dean leant closer and kissed her, not with real passion but instead with a definite tenderness. Jo moved closer, preparing to lose herself in the embrace when Dean's sudden mumbling against her lips shattered the moment.

"Cas!" Dean exclaimed in a rush, leaping back from Jo as if the answer to all their problems had suddenly unfolded right before him.  
Jo blinked her confusion and flashed Dean a wry smile, "Cas?"  
Dean stood up and hauled Jo unceremoniously to her feet as inspiration struck him.

"As Freudian slips go Dean, that's gotta be the weirdest I've heard for a while," said Jo, sarcasm alive in her tone. Dean turned to her and Jo noted the faint glimmer of hope that now shone in his eyes. Inexplicably, her own spirits lifted. Dean was a seasoned pessimist, and so the fact that he had managed to find something in all of this to ignite even a spark of hope made Jo feel just a little better.

"Castiel is an angel, right?"

Jo shot Dean an incredulous look, "Yeah, I got that part. The wings and stuff were sort of a giveaway."

"Angels can see into people's minds," Dean explained in a whisper, leaning closer to Jo now to avoid being overheard. "If you could try to project your thoughts to Cas, then maybe he could hear you."

"Kind of like a long distance call," Jo finished, beginning to bounce on the balls of her feet as a wave of excitement washed over her.

She glanced up nervously at the watchtower, noting the absence of the guards. She was hopeful that meant they too would not hear her mental call, although the reason for their absence unnerved her just as much as that prospect. Jo felt sure it had something to do with the impending ceremony but she was trying her hardest not to dwell on the idea.

"So, I just... shout?" she looked to Dean for direction. He shrugged, keeping a watchful eye on the other hunters. Dean was suspicious by nature and not sure of just how much trust they could place in their fellow captives.

Jo closed her eyes, feeling ridiculous as she noted that was probably not necessary, but finding that it focused her thoughts nonetheless.

Taking a deep, steadying breath first, Jo muttered, "Here goes nothing..."


	11. Chapter Ten

**A.N. – Did you all miss the gruesome collaborating twosome? If so, why not express that in the form of a review? It gives us warm fuzzy feelings when you do! Thanks.**

**Chapter Ten**

It was almost with amusement that Sam observed the shift in Castiel's demeanour. One moment, the angel was crouching on the ground attempting to formulate a suitable battle plan and the next, his head was cocked towards the sky. Sam could even imagine his ears pricking up, like a dog heeding the call of his master from afar.

"The boss?" Sam inquired, hiding a smile behind the back of his hand. He would never understand how Castiel could be so comfortable with the omniscience of the other angels. Sam would hate to have someone else poking around in his head, probing at his inner most thoughts and possibly even his desires.

However, much to Sam's surprise, Castiel quickly shook his head without even casting the youngest Winchester a glance. Instead, Cas held up a hand at Sam in a clear demand for quiet, which he obeyed instantly. As a general rule, whenever Castiel became serious and business-like, Sam cooperated; it was Dean that seemed to relish pushing the angel's proverbial buttons in situations such as this.

"Joanna?" Cas murmured, although the inflection in his tone presented the name almost like a question. Sam shot Castiel a significant glance, biting his tongue to keep himself from interrupting whatever epiphany the angel was currently experiencing.

"How very curious," Castiel continued. It was as if he were conducting a conversation with some invisible and also inaudible partner, and Sam was beginning to grow increasingly frustrated with awaiting an explanation. Castiel mumbled something unintelligible and then followed with a query of his own. "Are you otherwise unharmed?"

Finally, Sam found that he could take no more of Castiel's caginess, and decided that he would run the risk of interjecting.

"Cas, what the hell is going on?" demanded Sam, his eyes as wide as saucers and his fingers nervously toying with the handgun he held in his lap. Castiel's attention was drawn immediately to Sam, to whom he shot a withering glare which he proceeded by a hissed shushing sound. It appeared that whatever he was doing involved his utmost concentration.

"And Dean is..." Castiel continued, a telltale frown of disapproval briefly settled on his face, "Yes. I would agree that his actions do not constitute a rescue."  
Sam arched an eyebrow in abject confusion. He rose from his perch on the tree stump and stood directly in front of Cas, hoping his proximity may force an explanation.  
"The symbols must be removed before I may enter," Castiel continued, as he deftly side-stepped Sam and turned his back to him.  
Sam sighed in exasperation and tapped Cas pointedly on the shoulder. He received an ushering gesture in response and could not help but catch the irritated grimace on the angel's face as he tried his best to ignore Sam's interruptions.  
Sam paused, watching Castiel's brow furrow considerably; this could definitely not be construed a good sign.

"The ceremony you speak of is likely an attempt to call Leila forth from purgatory," said Castiel, once again oblivious to Sam. "I believe they would require a mass blood sacrifice to do so."

Sam's mouth dropped open as he began to comprehend the snippets of the apparently one sided conversation that he was privy to.

"Agreed," Castiel responded finally, before returning his attention to Sam with a less than apologetic expression spread across his face. To the contrary, in fact, his features were creased with an irritated frown.

"What was that about?" Sam wasted little time in demanding.

"Joanna," Cas bit back somewhat tartly before turning his gaze to the prison tower that loomed some distance in front of them.

"Jo? Sam repeated, ignoring his confusion as his mind processed the tidbits he had heard. Words such as 'ceremony' and 'sacrifice' tended not to sit well with most hunters and Sam was no exception to the rule.  
"The demons are preparing a ceremony which I believe will bring Leila forth into this world," Castiel cleared his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, and dug his hands into his pockets. "They have named Jo as Leila's vessel. I believe the other hunters are to be used as offerings and sacrifices."  
Sam's eyes widened and he exhaled slowly, running his hands through his hair, "Then we gotta get in there now."  
Castiel nodded in agreement, "I cannot enter the compound until the Enochian symbols are removed. Joanna will inform me when this has been done. She and Dean are working on a plan."  
"Joanna... uh, I mean Jo will inform you?" Sam asked askance. So many elements of Castiel's explanation failed to make sense. Last time Sam had checked, Jo possessed no magical powers beyond an over eager trigger finger and a killer left hook.  
Cas nodded flippantly, "Yes, the demons have allowed her to read minds in order to facilitate communication with their leader."  
"Jo can read minds?" Sam blinked in surprise before a brief smile crossed his lips, "Poor Dean."

Castiel cocked his head and his lips parted as though a question where forming on them. However, at the last second he seemed to find his query unimportant and instead closed his mouth.

"So, what do we do now?" Sam pressed, returning to his previous seat and stretching his weary and aching legs out in front of him.

"We wait for the signal," answered Cas, lowering himself onto the ground in front of Sam with surprising grace.

"How much time do we have left?" said Sam, peering up into the sky as he spoke in an effort to ascertain the time of day. His digital wristwatch had stopped soon after Cas had transported them to the present dimension and so he was relying simply on the appearance of the skyline now for a rough estimate.

"A little over two hours," Cas replied, tone remarkably even and nonplussed. Sam would never fail to be amazed at the apparent calm that Castiel was capable of displaying in even the most dire circumstances.

"Just great," muttered Sam, shaking his head and picking up a small stone, which he hurled into the trees in a demonstration of his frustration.

x-x-x

The three hunters sat in silence, each wearing a similarly pensive expression. Dean watched as Jo traced a stick through the dirt, drawing absent patterns on the ground to occupy her hands whilst she mulled over their possible means of escape. The Enochian symbols had to be destroyed but the 'how' in this equation was presently evading them all.  
A gust of wind swept across the enclosure and Jo batted irritably at a tendril of hair that fell down across her eyes. Dean watched her, noting every detail of her face, and he silently wondered if she was aware of just how pretty she was. A blush rose across Jo's cheeks and very slowly she lifted her gaze to meet his. Dean groaned inwardly as he realised that she had of course been witness to his thoughts. Jo simply shot him a shy smile in response.  
"I'm kind of drawing a blank on the whole 'escape plan' thing," Jo sighed, tapping the stick against the dusty ground. She glanced up at Dean and then Duke in turn, both of whom offered no contributions for the moment.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh of exasperation, Jo folded her arms and glared at the two hunters, her eyes shining.

"Typical, leave it to the woman," she griped in mock annoyance, fighting the smile that threatened to spoil her feigned rage. Dean winked at her, happy to oblige her sudden lightness of mood. He knew that Jo loved nothing more than having a free reign in formulating plans and that the current situation was likely to be no different.

"Well, you are the vessel sweetheart," Dean replied with a shrug, "I figure that leaves at least seventy percent of this plan in your hands."

Jo snorted, slapping playfully at Dean's arm before sobering herself once again and returning her attention to the gates of the enclosure.

"We need a distraction," she mused, a frown settling on her face as she bit down thoughtfully on her lip.  
Dean smirked and cocked an eyebrow, "Okay, you flash 'em and we'll..."  
He halted abruptly as a hand slapped him across the back of the head. Dean glowered at Duke, "Would you stop doing that?"  
Duke nodded toward Jo to continue and she shot Dean a thoroughly withering glare, "Something that doesn't involve nudity, Dean."  
He sighed in defeat and folded his arms across his chest, peering thoughtfully up at the sky, as if waiting for inspiration. "No, I got nothing."

Jo rolled her eyes in a combination of actual disgust and just a shred of amusement. Duke continued to stare at Dean wearing his disapproval for all to see.

"I'm mighty glad I ain't the one poking around in your head at the moment," grumbled Duke, shooting Jo a sympathetic look that appeared to have Dean bristling. It was true that his thoughts were of a colourful and decidedly unique nature, but he was far from the total pervert that so many seemed to take him for. At least, he believed he was; Sammy, on the other hand, would more than likely beg to differ.

"Well I don't see you with a plan," retorted Dean, his arms folded in a mildly defensive gesture that Duke observed with a throaty chuckle. The older hunter opened his mouth to reply, his eyes twinkling with mischeivous intent, when Jo's fingers suddenly closing around his elbow drew his attention elsewhere. In perfect synchronicity, the hunters turned to the gate, where at least twelve primal demons clad in crimson robes had now assembled. They stood for a moment without moving towards the padlock, all simply staring ahead in unnerving silence. Dean noted how the other hunters had begun to instinctively back off from the gate, recognising trouble when they were faced with it.

"What are they saying Jo?" whispered Duke, his voice a steady purr that belayed none of his fear. Dean envied him that, as he was certain that should he speak, his own voice would quiver in that awful tell-tale fashion he despised. Far from being afraid for himself, Dean's concern was reserved only for Jo, and the absolute terror that the thought of losing her evoked within him.

"It's too late," Jo murmured in response, a steely kind of determination in her eyes, "they're coming for us."

"We gotta get rid of those damn symbols so Cas can get his celestial ass in here and beam us out," Dean grimaced, watching as the guards began to march in unison toward their intended victims.  
The leader nodded his approval as several of the demons seized hunters at random. Dean was shocked and a little disgusted to see that none of the men offered any form of resistance. If this was the end of the line, he was going to go out fighting, the way his father had taught him.  
"Get behind me," he grabbed hold of Jo's wrist, ignoring her protests as he ushered her behind him.  
"Dean, no," Jo argued, swatting at his hand and attempting to push her way in front of him again, "they'll kill you."  
Dean shrugged, deftly producing the handgun from the waistband of his jeans and flicking off the safety catch, "They're gonna kill us all anyway, Jo. At least this way I can take a couple of the ugly bastards with me."  
Jo's gaze flitted between the approaching guards and Dean. Placing her hand over his, she stepped directly in his eye line.  
"Shoot me," she pleaded, watching as his eyes widened in evident disbelief, "if you shoot me they'll have to prepare another vessel, it'll buy you guys time."  
"Are you crazy?" Dean narrowed his eyes and stared down at her like it was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard. "What the hell is with you, Jo? Cos I gotta tell you, this death wish you've got going on is starting to piss me off."  
Jo ignored the anger behind his words and stepped closer, noting the desperation in his eyes as he held her gaze.

"You could still get out of here, Dean," she murmured, all but begging him now.  
"Not without you," he shook his head resolutely, his jaw set as he reached out to grasp her hand.

"Simmer down you two," Duke said softly, his voice returning to that soothing purr that seemed to calm them all. Jo and Dean glanced at the man, both curious as to his intentions. "No one's gonna be shootin' anyone."

"Damn right," Dean muttered, concealing the handgun behind his back as two demons approached their small huddle. Dean's finger tensed around the trigger but he resisted the urge to whip the gun out and aim it at the creature's head. His own logic screamed at him that he could hardly help Jo or the others if he were dead himself. However, it was taking every last ounce of Dean's self control, and this what he focused upon maintaining.

As a result, he failed to notice when Duke stepped forwards a few paces until the old hunter had snatched the gun from his hand and fired a bullet between the eyes of one of the approaching demons in the same way that Dean had contemplated only seconds before. The creature dropped to the ground, an enormous hole now present in its cranium. Ebony blood oozed from the wound, as thick and as acrid in smell as oil. Dean started, staring at Duke through wide, accusing eyes.

"Got your distraction," Duke muttered through the side of his mouth. Jo's eyelids fluttered closed momentarily, and Dean could see her concern for Duke plainly in the set of her mouth. Dean could tell that Jo was reluctant to leave the man, but the danger he had just put himself in was for Jo's benefit only.

"Go!" Dean grabbed Jo by the shoulders, almost shaking her as he tried to spur her into action. The gates had been left open and unguarded yet no other hunter had made any attempt to move. They remained rooted in fear, simply watching the unfolding scene.  
Jo stood motionless, her eyes wide as three of the guards descended on Duke with spears brandished. They stalked in a circle around him but Duke held his ground with his square jaw raised towards the sky and his eyes narrowed.  
"Jo!" Dean prompted again, catching the gun that Duke tossed at him and pushing Jo off toward the gate. Dean aimed at the head of one of the other guards and pulled the trigger. He was sickened and yet satisfied by the inky black blood that subsequently spurted from the hole he had created in the creature's skull.  
Jo ran flat out towards the gate until her lungs burned with the effort. The sound of further gun shots rang out across the yard and a ball of fear dropped into the pit of Jo's stomach. She could hear Dean's boots pounding the ground heavily behind her, but the rest of the hunters remained stationary. Jo pondered the reason for this and quickly decided that they were acting out of terror, believing that a hapless attempt at escape would lead them to a worse fate than simply resigning themselves to the demons' control. Jo's suspicions were confirmed when in the next instant a nearby hunter stuck out one booted foot in a sly move that sent Dean tumbling to the ground. Jo turned, distracted by the thud that Dean's body made as it connected with the dirt, and found her arm seized by Matthew, the letch who only hours before she had caught checking her out.

Jo's fury was palpable and with a grunt of effort she flung her elbow into Matthew's nose, sending his head snapping backwards and causing a crimson tide to spill from his nostrils. Jo barely had time for a satisfied grin before a second hunter lunged for her, and she was forced to commit the ultimate sin of bringing her knee up heavily into his groin. She was determined to follow Dean's example and go down fighting, if at all.

A quick glance in Dean's direction told her that he had already climbed to his feet and was busy engaging a primal demon in hand to hand combat. Jo winced as the creature landed a punch to Dean's right eye but could do nothing to help as Matthew recovered and flew at her again.

"You bitch," he snarled, pausing only to spit blood on the ground. Jo smirked and ducked out of the way as Matthew aimed a meaty fist at her jaw. His knuckle grazed the air and the hunter let out an infuriated roar. His grudge appeared to be more personal now rather than fuelled by his own desire to survive.

A mini brawl was in full swing in the yard now as hunter launched themselves at hunter and demon alike. The primal demons were standing their ground well against the attacks they received, but Jo was disheartened to see that the majority of the captive hunters had elected to save their own hides as opposed to joining the escape attempt that Duke had instigated.

Matthew lunged at her again, meeting more success this time as his attack coincided with an attempt by two demons to forcibly wrestle Dean to the ground. Jo managed to deflect Matthew's fist from striking her but with most of her attention focused on Dean, he was able to grab her around the waist, his fingers digging mercilessly into the line of sutures on her side. Jo kicked out behind her and screamed in response, struggling against the hunter who crushed his body to hers in order to restrain her better. The combination of sweat and grime that clung to him almost made Jo wretch. A lecherous smile twitched at Matthew's lips as he nodded over toward Dean in delight, watching as a third demon joined the fray, swinging an immense sword. Dean squeezed his eyes tight shut, his body bent over double by a demon almost twice his size. He was left with little other choice than to await the blow that would surely kill him.  
Jo scanned the crowd of hunters, her heart pounding against her ribcage as she searched frantically for Duke. A gasp of despair left her lips as she finally spied him; one hand was pressed to his chest where a stream of blood pulsed steadily through his fingers and onto the ground below. Jo blinked rapidly as images of her mother appeared before her and she turned her gaze back to Dean, watching in abject horror as the third demon brought his sword down towards the nape of Dean's neck.  
"No!" Jo's blood curdling scream resonated around the walls and in her anger she brought her elbow up to Matthew's throat, knocking him backwards onto the ground.

Her call seemed to have the desired effect however as the demon's blade whistled through the air but came to a halt an inch above Dean's skin. Dean's eyes flashed open but he did not attempt to move as Jo cautiously approached the demons, her palms splayed in front of her body in a placating gesture.

"Please, don't," she gasped, struggling to catch her breath against the dull ache in her side. "You can have me. Just... don't."

The tallest of the demons detached itself from the group and strode towards Jo with a curled lip. Hovering before her, the creature leaned into Jo so that the two slits that served as it's nostrils were at level with her own nose. Their eyes met and Jo thought she saw a brief flash of understanding.

"_Soulmates."_

The word leaped into Jo's head, unbidden, and before she could either confirm or deny it, the demon held a scaly, clawed hand up at Dean's captors. They simultaneously released their holds sending Dean tumbling to his knees, wincing as the pounding in his head was magnified by the jarring motion.  
Jo ran to Dean's side and hauled him to his feet. Grateful for the support, Dean fastened his arm around Jo's slim waist and leaned into her.

"How many times have I gotta save your ass, Winchester?" Jo's attempt at humour failed as her voice cracked, but nonetheless Dean shot her an affectionate smile. He wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand and grimaced at the metallic taste that lingered in his mouth. He eyed the demons somewhat warily and drew Jo closer into his side, noting that Matthew had stepped forward from the throng of hunters and was swaggering toward the demons with a bizarre smile on his face. Dean speculated that he was going for arrogance but his fear of the primal demons was bringing him up somewhere short.  
Jo placed her hand against Dean's cheek and brushed her thumb across his skin with the lightest of touches. A black eye seemed to be imminently emerging but other than that Dean appeared to be unharmed.  
"I'm okay, I'm okay," he breathed, placing his hand over Jo's and then pressing a kiss to the centre of her palm. All the while, the ten pairs of demonic eyes were affixed to the couple. Jo resisted the urge to shudder and instead tossed a glare towards Matthew, who was drawing level with the apparent leader.

"I stopped her," drawled Matthew, indicating Jo with an index finger. "Did you see?"

The demons whipped their gazes towards the hunter in a kind of alarming unison, conducting the movement almost as though they functioned with one mind. Matthew swallowed hard and Jo felt Dean's body stiffen behind her in anticipation of more trouble.

The demon observed Matthew, wearing a leer and an expression that Jo recognised as one of disgust. It was the oddest thing she had ever seen on the face of a monster.

"I could be useful," Matthew continued, tone a little more uncertain now and legs quivering ever so slightly. "You don't have to kill me. I could be useful."

The demons stared back at him, holding his unwavering glare as he smiled under the scrutiny and folded his arms across his chest in an attempt to up the bravado.  
Jo watched as the leader's blackened eyes narrowed in something that looked like amusement and he gestured toward the hunter.  
_"Kill him."_  
Jo spun away from the scene and Dean's hand instantly came to rest on the back of her head. She closed her eyes, the faintest pang of sympathy for Matthew stabbing at her heart. The sound of the demon's heavy footfall heralded a scream of terror that seem to reverberate in the air around them.  
Dean closed his own eyes as a sickening series of loud cracks preceded the sound of blood and entrails hitting the dirt. Matthew continued screaming for several more seconds before a hush fell across the crowd. When Dean reopened his eyes to be greeted by the site of Matthew's limbs scattered in a wide arc, his stomach lurched. The hunter had been effectively dismembered and the demons responsible for the act were in the process of hungrily licking his blood from their talons. It was true that Dean had loathed the guy during the short time he had known him, but he would not have wished that kind of death on even his enemy.

When the leader's cold eyes fell upon them again, Dean was relieved for the mercy of not being able to communicate with the demon. A look of shock crossed Jo's features and Dean knew that the creature was making contact with her once again. The next words that left her lips filled him with a sense of dread the likes of which he had not experienced for a very long time.

In a surprisingly steady voice, Jo whispered the demon's words. "Bring them."


	12. Chapter Eleven

**A.N. – The stomach flu and a dodgy internet connection have slowed down our fast and furious update schedule. Boo! We still love you all though, so here is a new chapter to prove it. You can thank us in reviews ;-)**

**Chapter Eleven**

The demons formed a kind of procession from the thirteen hunters they had selected from the prison yard. Jo, the fourteenth human, brought up the rear flanked by two burly primal demons. Dean had been positioned at the front of the line, and the hunters behind him were joined together by a thick rope that encircled each of their middles. Their hands were also bound with rope, and yet Jo remained free from any restraint. In fact, she had noted that the demons were treating her almost cordially, whilst they amused themselves with toying with the other captives.

The hunters who had been left in the enclosure had been far from jovial at the fact, realising that if they were not to become sacrifices they would only meet their ends in other more gruesome ways. Their suspicions had been confirmed when five apparently female demons had been led into the enclosure by the robed leader. The female primals had been entirely naked, scaled and deformed breasts exposed. They appeared somewhat smaller than the males of the species but on the whole more volatile and feral. They had snarled and spat at the humans, eager to commence with their fun, and Jo had watched nauseas as despair had settled on the face of every last hunter.

The sacrifices were no more than three feet outside the expansive iron gates when the shrieking began, accompanied by the wet sound of flesh tearing.

Jo had been unable to wrench her gaze away from Duke's still body upon leaving. She doubted very much that the demons would touch the old hunter's corpse when a far fresher meal lay within reach, but she knew that it was unlikely that they would be able to recover his body, should they even survive the day themselves.

The terror and fear of the hunters' last few moments quickly invaded her thoughts and Jo shivered against the tidal wave of emotion that engulfed her. They cried out loud to God and cursed their murderers, but present in their minds was only their pain, and hasty goodbyes to wives and lovers. A tear rolled freely down Jo's cheek; one young hunter's last thoughts were only of his mother and how his disappearance would affect her. He died without a single profanity passing his lips so as not to disappoint her in his final minutes.

Once outside the enclosure, the group walked for what Jo roughly calculated to be a mile. Jo glanced around furtively and took in the primitive looking huts and out buildings that dotted the landscape around them. When they eventually drew to a halt, Jo noted that they were standing amid a circle of flaming torches that appeared to be just out of sight of the camp entrance.

The leader strode toward the centre of the ritualistic looking ring and immediately twelve of the hunters were positioned at intervals around the perimeter. Each was forced to their knees, hands tied behind their back as their foreheads were daubed with that Jo assumed to be demon blood. She registered the fear in their eyes and was almost too afraid to search out Dean. Yet when she did so, she found him merely staring, his green eyes focused steadily on her.  
She was relieved to see that he had been separated from the other hunters and now stood at the side of the leader. However, she knew that their reasons for sparing him thus far could only be self serving.  
Dean forced a weak smile in her direction, and then winked at her in perhaps a final act of defiance. Jo's guilt was immense; whilst she knew that the demons would have abducted the other hunters regardless, she knew that Dean's presence amongst the sacrifices was entirely her own fault. She recognised that her own stubborn refusal to allow others to see her true emotions was what had driven her to the Roadhouse alone, and she knew that in doing so, she had as good as spit on her mother's sacrifice. Ellen had given her life for the safety of her daughter and the Winchester boys, and now they would all more than likely be killed because of Jo. She could not bear the thought nor the mocking grin that the demon at her side sported whilst it undoubtedly listened to the self-depreciation that flitted through her mind.

Jo's jaw set in resolution; she would not give these things even a split second of satisfaction if she could help as much. Turning her back on her guard, Jo locked her gaze with Dean and offered him a responding smile loaded with more confidence than she felt. In her mind, she hazarded a brief warning to Castiel, but the demons surrounding now seemed more preoccupied with preparing a makeshift alter in the centre of the circle to intercept her thoughts.

For the first time since gaining her new ability, Jo actively reached out to Dean's mind, wondering in this moment fraught with danger and tension, what the oldest Winchester could possibly be thinking. His thoughts were easy to read but they filled her with a pleasant kind of warmth that spread all the way to her toes.

_And I didn't even get to tell her I love her... _

x-x-x

The two hour mark was fast approaching and even without the benefit of a watch, Sam was more than aware of this fact. He paced the clearing that he and Cas had relocated to nervously, actually creating a track in the dirt with his repeated footfalls. Sam's eyes were wild and every so often he would rake his hands through to the ends of his hair in an evident display of his mounting panic. He knew that time was running out and that soon, he and Castiel would be ripped from this dimension leaving Dean and Jo to face their doom.

Characteristically, Cas sat cross-legged on a large rock, unflappable as ever. The gentle breeze stirred around him and buffeted both his hair and the tails of his trench coat, yet Castiel remained rooted to the spot. He barely even blinked.

Growing quickly tired of the angel's lack of action, Sam seized Cas' arm and shook him roughly. Castiel's head whipped back and forth, but he remained unblinking and Sam wondered if he was in some kind of trance. His musings were answered however when Cas shot him a scathing look and brushed Sam's vice-like grip from his arm as easily as he might swat a fly.

"Are you just going to sit there?" demanded Sam, hysteria colouring his tone now although he no longer cared. "They're going to die."

"Likely within the next ten minutes," Cas remarked, unflinching. Sam blinked rapidly, too shocked by the admittance to do much else than stare. Although he had long since dealt with his misconception that angels were loving and pious creatures, their lack of emotion during such times never failed to unsettle him. There was something so inherently wrong about the creatures who had been painted for centuries as innocents being so comfortable with pain and suffering.

Sam's gaze flicked between the building off in the distance and the thoroughly nonplussed angel before him and finally his temper broke.  
Gathering up his rifle from the ground, Sam slung it over his shoulder and began to march toward the encampment, his jaw rigid and back erect.  
Castiel glanced up as Sam passed by, and the exasperated angel rolled his eyes before beginning to follow calmly behind.  
"I do not need to remind you that I cannot enter the compound," Castiel called after him, sighing as he received no response from the younger Winchester. Whilst Castiel admired the eagerness his two friends so frequently exhibited, it was also immensely frustrating when circumstances seemed insurmountable; optimism was not a typically celestial trait.  
A breeze suddenly blew up around the men, sending leaves swirling up from the ground and Castiel drew to a halt, holding up his hand to signal that Sam should not interrupt him with unnecessary questions.  
"Someone is removing the symbols," he announced, placing a steadying hand on Sam's shoulder as he nodded toward the camp and in a tone almost comically devoid of emotion, announced, "Charge!"

x-x-x

He was in more pain than he had ever imagined possible and yet Duke found the strength within himself to somehow clamber to his feet. He had lost consciousness before the female demons had entered the yard and as Duke spun in a slow, unsteady circle to survey the area, he found himself glad of this.

The stone walls were awash with blood as was the ground beneath him. The hunters had been ripped literally limb from limb, and the remnants of their bodies apparently feasted on. The only ones to remain untouched had been the already dead and Duke found himself again thankful for the fact that the demons must have mistaken him for being as much.

Tearing his eyes away from the terrible scene of carnage, Duke stumbled towards the gates, which he noted were now hanging wide open. From somewhere within the distance the sound of chanting washed over him, and Duke realised that the ceremony was already underway. Whilst he knew also that he may already be too late to help Jo, Dean or the rest of the hunters, Duke was more than willing to die trying.

His progress towards the exit was painfully slow in his wounded state but Duke kept one hand pressed over the seeping hole in his chest and hobbled onwards. His breathing sounded shallow to even his own ears and Duke was beginning to tremble from head to toe, yet his mind was fixed on the Enochion symbols he knew were to be destroyed.

Thankful for the unguarded gate, Duke made his way toward the outer encampment, gritting his teeth against the agony in his chest as he veered into a small grove of trees that lined the camp. He grasped the trunk of a nearby tree as a sharp pain caused every nerve in his body to tense. Duke drew his gaze quickly toward the circle of demons as he heard a woman's yell of protest punctuate the eerie silence.  
Duke watched in anger as Jo was accosted by two of the demons and hauled, kicking and fighting toward the centre of the circle. Dean struggled against his captors, shouting and thrashing in an attempt to disrupt the proceedings.  
Pushing himself on, Duke used the outer wall for support, managing to make it to the entry way where the symbols were daubed on the stone. He rubbed hurriedly at the writing, noting with increasing urgency that the thick blood was not wearing away under his touch. He reached into his pocket and produced a match, which he struck against the cold stone and then began to coax the flame against the symbols. The markings slowly began to fade and he noted with relief that the blood dried then crumbled beneath his fingertips.

A bolt of lightning ripped through the sky overhead without warning and although Duke jumped in surprise, he continued to chip away at the dried blood.

Duke made short work of the symbol before throwing his body at the next stone entrance pillar. The demons were too far away to notice him but Duke worked quickly. Once the second bizarre looking sigil had been fragmented in two, Duke wrapped both arms around the pillar and rested his cheek against it.

Duke sank to the floor on weak legs and the darkness pulled him under once again.

x-x-x

Jo grinned, managing to will the tears she felt pricking at her eyes into submission. She nodded at Dean in understanding and watched with a little amusement as a blush crept up his cheeks. She found his constant forgetfulness to guard his thoughts adorable and his embarrassment at this even more so.  
The moment was shattered as twelve demons marched across the circle, each carrying a glistening sword in their right hand. The demons adopted menacing stances behind each hunter before looking toward their leader for the appropriate signal. Dean's eyes widened as each hunter was then grabbed forcibly by the hair in order to expose their necks. Dean gulped and saw that a number of the hunters did likewise.  
Dean stared across at Jo; he was at a loss to find any way out of their current situation and he could not help but blame himself. Whilst he was not afraid to die, (one of the main benefits of having done so already), Dean found himself mourning the future that they would now be denied. Years of missed opportunities and suppressed feelings had brought them to this moment and he hoped that if nothing else, Jo now realised that she had never been just 'one of those girls'.

Her silent nod acknowledged as much and Dean shot Jo a sad smile. None of the usual light or mirth danced in his emerald coloured eyes, but Jo was drawn to them regardless. She had always been captivated by Dean's gaze. Ellen had often remarked that Dean had his father's eyes and although Jo remembered little about her Uncle John, she at least could recall the truth in her mother's words.

Jo stared wide eyed at the demon's leader as he raised his claw-like hands to the sky and began to chant in a language she could not discern. A bolt of lightning suddenly struck the earth beneath the demon's feet and a deep glowing light seeped from his palm.  
Jo struggled furiously against the demons that held her, shaking her head from side to side in a vain attempt to avoid the hand of the leader. He first peered at the globe of light he held within his talons and then pressed his hand against Jo's forehead. The sound of Dean's yelling was gradually drowned out by the collective murmurs of the demons around her and with a final hiss of resistance Jo sank to the ground in a crumpled heap.

Dean's breath hitched in his chest but from a mere glance he could tell that Jo was still alive, and relatively unharmed. The ungodly chanting rose to fever pitch, soon becoming so loud and passionate that Dean longed to clap his hands over his ears in order to drown it out. Then, abruptly, the primal demons fell quiet and all eyes turned to the still form of Jo.

Suddenly, the fingers of her right hand twitched ever so slightly.

x-x-x

Sam and Castiel barrelled through the abandoned entrance of the camp, the former with his shotgun resting on his shoulder whilst the latter extended one hand in a threatening gesture. They skidded to a halt in unison as Sam's eyes fell upon a body slumped against the fortress wall. Abandoning his gun for the moment, Sam dropped to his knees and pulled the figure across his lap. He was greeted by the unconscious and blood streaked face of Duke Embry, a hunter that he had happened across once or twice before at the Roadhouse. An ugly knife wound marred his chest and blood still continued to pump from it at an alarming rate. Two fingers pressed to Duke's neck alerted Sam to the fact that the hunter was still alive, but for how much longer he had no idea.

"He's alive," Sam stated, releasing Duke's body to lay him on the ground as Castiel knelt at his side and examined the wound.  
Sam quickly seized his shotgun and took off running toward the ceremonial circle as Cas concentrated on healing the injured hunter.

Sam came to a sudden standstill as he evaluated the scene unfolding in the centre of the circle. Dean stood next to the demon's apparent leader, hands tied behind his back and an angry bruise forcing one eye partially closed.

The relief at finding his sibling alive was cut abruptly short and Sam frowned as he watched Jo climb unsteadily to her feet. She took a few drunken, tottering steps before finally seeming to regain control of her legs. Something about the scene and even Jo herself was unbearably wrong but Sam was at a loss to explain anything.

A string of expletives briefly crossed Sam's lips as he watched Jo dutifully pluck a sword from the hand of a demon and step threateningly closer to Dean. Jo's lips seemed paler now than they ought to be, and they curved into a smile that despite her beauty was inexplicably ugly.

"What the hell..." Sam muttered in bemusement. Utterly horrified, he watched as Jo swung the sword above her head in an expert manner that Sam was certain the hunter was incapable of.

He shook his head in confusion and lifted his shotgun to his shoulder before carefully taking aim.


	13. Chapter Twelve

**A.N. – Apologies for the late update but fanfictiondotnet is a whiney little girl, who refused to let either of us log in. Anyone else have the same issue? Hope you enjoy this chapter anyway. Please also note that two reviews from the last chapter have spontaneously disappeared. Gotta love this site, right?**

**Chapter Twelve**

Dean could only observe with wide eyes as Jo stalked towards him on visibly trembling legs. He wondered if the demon now residing within her was simply getting to grips with corporeal form once again, or if Jo was fighting back for control of her own body. Dean's question was answered in the next instant as Jo snatched a sword from the hand of a nearby demon and smirked. Dean resisted the urge to shudder; Jo had always had such a warm smile in his opinion and the unnaturally evil twist of her lips seemed so wrong now.

The thing in Jo's body kept a watchful gaze on Dean before swinging the sword in a wide arc over her head, and holding it aloft. Dean grimaced but could do little to save himself. It was then that he noted Sam, standing metres away with his shotgun pulled tight against his shoulder and his finger slowly squeezing the trigger. Dean's expression turned to one of pleading that even from the distance that separated them, Sam had no problem in understanding; _don't hurt her_, Dean's eyes begged.

At the last second, Sam pulled the shotgun left and the round he had only just released found its target in the torso of the leader of the primal demons. The creature roared before staggering backwards a few paces, the talons of one hand clawing at the bleeding wound. Dean breathed an evident sigh of relief and hazarded a glance at Jo, whose head had turned upon hearing the round being discharged from the shotgun. Her brown eyes were narrowed to slits and her features contorted into an unrecognisable sneer.

"Make head shots Sammy!" yelled Dean, his voice sounding hoarse from all the shouting he had done within the last thirty minutes.

Sam nodded in reply and fired off another two rounds, hitting two of the demons square in the head. They stumbled backwards as rivulets of thick, black blood began to pour from their wounds and they landed simultaneously in a crumpled heap.  
Jo's head turned once more to Dean and she stared at him intently for a few moments before her smile wavered.  
Dean took a shaky step closer and held her gaze, "Jo?" he watched as her body shook uncontrollably and her grip on the sword slackened.  
"I know you can hear me," his eyes never leaving hers, he took another step forwards before shooting a discreet glance at the sword in her hand, "you're stronger than this, Jo..."  
Jo recoiled and slammed her free hand to her forehead as a sharp pain resonated in her skull. She gasped for breath as she felt the demon struggling for control within her, and her heart pounded furiously in her chest. The command of the demon echoed unrelentingly in her mind, _"Kill him."_

Every nerve in Jo's body screeched at her to stop, to fight harder and to win no matter what the cost. However despite Jo's best effort to hold onto her body, she felt her consciousness being once more pushed down into the cage Leila's presence had created within her. The sensation was akin to slipping beneath the surface of water, almost as though she were drowning. Her muscles and limbs no longer belonged to her, and Jo could only watch her hand take up the sword once more. Dean's expression was earnest and Jo knew that he was silently urging her to persist.

"Sorry, Jo's not here right now," came the callous and mocking reply from Jo's lips, although the voice was very unlike her own.

'_But I am here,' _Jo all but screamed from her internal prison. It seemed that the more she flung herself at the proverbial bars, the more amused and determined that Leila grew.

"She's in there alright," Dean snarled, paying no mind now to the demons that were falling around him as Sam picked them off one by one with a few well aimed shots. The younger Winchester brother had paused to release a few of the closer prisoners, who had now joined the fray and were attempting to beat back the primal demons with what little weaponry lay within arms reach.  
"Uh-uh," Leila teased, shooting Dean a taunting smile as she arched an eyebrow and evaluated him with a quick glance. "Well, well, well... Dean Winchester."

She purred his name before extending her hand and sliding the tip of the blade down his neck almost as though she were caressing him with the steel. She took satisfaction in the breath that caught in his throat and then proceeded to trail the weapon lazily down his chest. She toyed with the pendant around his neck before letting if fall back against his skin and inclining her head to meet his gaze once again.  
"Get your ugly, evil ass out of my friend," Dean growled, struggling to free his hands from the rope that held them behind his back.  
The demon laughed, throwing her head back as she quickly scanned her new body and nodded in apparent approval.

"I don't think so, I kind of like this vessel," she shrugged playfully, "as do you. And don't bother lying to me Dean, I know exactly what's running through that pretty little head of yours... and hers. But, let's cut to the chase shall we? I want to make you and your brother a deal."  
"Not interested," Dean spat, inclining his head away from her as she suddenly stepped forward and pressed her body against his hip, her warm breath drifting over his skin.

"Ohhh, but you haven't even heard my terms yet. I think you'll find them quite agreeable."

"Let me guess," growled Dean, his lips twitching in anger, "I let you walk away in Jo's body and you don't kill me and Sam?"

"So much better than that Dean," said Leila, an unpleasant and amused lilt to her tone. "You accept the inevitable, that this body _will_ be mine, and help me to complete the sacrifices to cement myself in my new residency... and I take care of your little Lucifer problem."

"What?" demanded Dean, glaring at the demon as though she were not only evil but perhaps also insane. He would hardly be surprised if the latter were true since monsters were not widely renowned for their stability.

"It's simple really Dean," murmured Leila, lips brushing against Dean's earlobe now as she spoke. "I want my father gone, you want my father gone... it's a win-win situation."

"Aside from the part where you take over Jo's body against her will," he retorted, pulling away from the demon now as she continued to tease him by trailing her fingertips along the length of his collarbone.

"In war there are always casualties," whispered Leila, her tone soothing now. "Just look at poor old Ellen."

Dean watched as something within Jo visibly flinched at the mention of her mother's name, and Dean was momentarily reassured that the hunter was holding on with all her strength. Drawing in a deep breath, Dean decided that the best course of action would be to keep the demon talking and perhaps give Jo the chance to gain the upper hand.

"What makes you think we need you to kill Lucifer?" Dean arched an eyebrow and tried not to recoil as her free hand sauntered up his chest and came to rest over his heart. The quickened thrum she felt beneath her new fingertips thrilled Leila and she dug her fingernails into Dean's flesh, hungry for more. It had been so long since she had enjoyed the sense of touch, which had always been her personal favourite of the five.  
"Ohh, that's right... the Colt," she giggled with a dismissive shrug, "news flash Dean, that won't kill him."

Her voice was little more than a whisper as she pressed a kiss to his cheek and nuzzled her face against his neck. His stubble rubbed against her soft skin and Leila shuddered a little with pleasure. The hunter smelled positively delicious in the most carnal of ways.  
"You need me," she breathed, gazing up at him from behind Jo's long lashes, "you want me."  
"I'm through making deals with demons, sweetheart," he shook his head slowly, making sure she understood the truth behind his words, "and I sure as hell don't want _you_."  
Leila's eyes flashed in fury and she turned her gaze to the sword in her hand with a pointed smile.

"Fine," she sighed in boredom, "have it your way, but don't say I didn't try to play nice."  
She ignored his incredulous laughter and inhaled slowly, tapping her finger against the tip of the sword as she appeared to deliberate her next move.

"I guess I'll just have to kill you. Poetic, don't you think that it be these pretty little hands that finally end your miserable life?" she pouted at his stoic expression and then beamed up at him. "No? Well, I think so."

"Come on Jo," said Dean urgently, peering down into the depths of Jo's eyes in an attempt to make a connection with the soul he was sure still resided within her body.

"Oh give it up," Leila groaned, rolling her eyes and stepping around Dean's body so that she was now positioned behind him. In a growl, she commanded, "Down."

Dean fell immediately to his knees almost as though he had been forcibly pushed although nothing visible had touched him.

"Why kill me?" demanded Dean, his desperation growing now as he noted that Sam appeared to have run out of ammunition and had resorted to using the butt of his shotgun to pummel the demons.

"Well little Sammy over there has done a bang up job of letting my sacrifices go," Leila complained, an almost comically irritated expression spreading across her borrowed features now. "You are my insurance. The very useful back up plan that every creature of darkness should have."

"Please, kill me or get to the point," replied Dean, wincing as Leila grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged sharply upwards in order to expose his throat. Carefully, she laid the edge of the blade against his neck and giggled.

"You're funny. I like you. It's such a shame I have no other choice," Leila mused, apparently mildly distressed by the task at hand. "You see Dean, you are little Jo's soulmate."

"Now, since I can no longer have the big old blood sacrifice that I needed, I'm having to settle for the next best thing. You die and a part of her soul dies too, just shrivels right up. Makes it that much easier for me to make this body my permanent home," she sighed for effect as she watched Sam plunge a dagger into the forehead of a demon he and another hunter had restrained, before she reached across to tap Dean's forehead in a teasing gesture.  
"Last chance Dean," she flicked her tongue over her bottom lip and forcibly jerked his head to face her as she stood over him. Her expression betrayed her utter delight at the situation, despite the battle continuing around her.  
Dean struggled against her, trying to turn his head from her direction as she suddenly pressed her lips to his. He groaned in protest against her insistent kiss, gasping for breath as she finally broke away and pressed her cheek against his, a goading chuckle rising up from her throat.  
In a final act of desperation, Dean caught her lips once more with his own, though this time the kiss was filled with tenderness. His eyes locked with hers as he pleaded, "Come back to me, Jo."

Jo blinked rapidly and, for just a moment, the venomous expression she had been wearing melted away to one of confusion.

"Dean?" she murmured, before her body was thrown a few paces backwards and a furious howl rose from the depths of her throat. Jo's eyes flashed as she affixed them on Dean's face and he knew that her five seconds of control had ended. Dean cursed and glared back at the demon inhabiting the petite body before him. Dean was unsure as to how much longer Sam and the rest of the hunters could keep the primal demons at bay, and he knew that time was fast running out to oust the demon from Jo's body. He thought quickly and, with only the faintest tatters of a plan in place, Dean elected to take a risk; Dean Winchester decided to die.

x-x-x

His first shot had only succeeded in wounding the demon that had been on the receiving end, but the majority of those following had taken down at least a half a dozen of the hideous suckers. Sam had begun to feel somewhat positive about their chances of escaping the dimension alive when precisely two things happened; first, it became apparent to Sam that Jo had become possessed by Leila, and second, Sam ran out of ammo.

Deciding that he could not help either Dean or Jo for the moment, Sam cursed under his breath and spun his shotgun around in his hands. Then, using the butt as a club, Sam began beating back the primal demons that lunged at him. It was slow going but Sam finally managed to reach the first restrained hunter, who had been abandoned by his potential executioner when Sam had made an appearance. Pulling his knife from the sheath that hung around his waist, Sam severed the bonds that held the man before beginning to fight his way towards the next. The demons at the latter end of the circle had clearly grown desperate and Sam noted that four of the twelve imprisoned hunters had been murdered already. Blood pulsed from wide slashes at their throats and this perhaps was the only reason that Leila had managed to begin crossing over from purgatory and into Jo's body.

Sam peered frantically over his shoulder and searched out Castiel's form, "Cas, a little help here?"  
Castiel left Duke propped against the wall, his wound now completely gone and colour slowly returning to his cheeks. Cas strode toward three demons who were approaching at a run, having left their hunter charges, and as he extended his hand a bolt of white light lit up the sky hurtling them backwards in a lifeless heap.  
Sam nodded in acknowledgement but his relief was short lived as he watched Castiel's image flicker before him, as if the angel were becoming little more than a hologram.  
"I must conserve the energy I have left," Cas stated, looking over toward Dean and Jo with a slight trace of unease on his face, "we must prepare to leave here at once."  
"What about Jo?" Sam demanded, his gaze flitting between the ceremonial circle and the angel before him.  
Castiel dropped his head solemnly and avoided his friend's gaze, "There is nothing further that can be done, but Leila must not be allowed to leave this dimension."  
Sam paused and then shook his head as if in misunderstanding, "You want me to kill Jo? Are you crazy?"  
"There is nothing else that can be done," Cas repeated, his tone somewhat less neutral than usual. Sam was unsure whether it was guilt or sorrow that currently inflected the angel's voice, but whatever the answer he knew that any emotions Castiel was currently experiencing would only be a fraction of those felt by his brother. Dean would never forgive him if he were to be responsible for Jo's death, and indeed Sam could never forgive himself that kind of failing.

"No, I won't," Sam argued, pausing only to slam the end of the shotgun into the nose of an approaching demon. He nodded in thanks as another hunter appeared and engaged the demon in combat, leaving Sam to talk to Cas.

"Even so, I believe someone else will," Castiel observed. Sam stared at the angel, his eyes narrowing as he noted the brief look of anguish that burned across Castiel's face.

"I'm going to help them," seethed Sam, too enraged and disgusted to offer much else beyond a sneer to his companion now. Castiel seemed nonplussed by Sam's disdain and yet a scene unfolding behind Sam appeared to have captured his rapt attention instead.

"No..." whispered Cas, his mouth hanging wide open now as he gazed across the sacrificial circle, which already ran red with blood. Sam followed the angel's eyes warily and subsequently gasped at the sight that greeted him.

Dean knelt before Jo, who had positioned herself at his back with the sharpest side of the blade resting against Dean's throat. The two exchanged brief words as Sam and Castiel looked on, and then Jo pulled her arm back in preparation to bleed her captive.

Dean locked eyes with Sam and smiled sadly at his brother, who nodded wordlessly in response. Turning back to regard the woman behind him for one final time, Dean swallowed and stared intently at Jo's face, yearning to see any faint glimmer of humanity in her eyes.  
"You'll always be my girl," he vowed, releasing a long held breath, realising the futility in his words yet feeling compelled to speak them anyway. "I uh- I love you Jo, and if I'd ever gotten a shot at a future in this crappy life, I'd have wanted it to be with you."

Dean closed his eyes as the blade nicked at his flesh, the cold metal pressing down against the rapid pounding of his pulse.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**A.N. – A big thank you to everyone who has reviewed and/or read so far. We really love to hear your thoughts and know if you like what you are reading or not, so please keep them coming. The end is nigh people!**

**Chapter Thirteen**

She was struggling to hold on; with every last fibre of her being she was battling to regain what she had lost.

Jo could only watch helplessly as her hand threatened the life of the man who had saved her own on countless occasions. A mirthful laugh that was not her own rose up from lips that were, and Jo's fury began to build by every passing second.

The thoughts of the demon were murderous and black, and Jo was privy to every single one of them. Over and over, the demon replayed an image to Jo as though hoping to taunt her into total submission; Dean, falling always to the left, with a crimson tide pulsing from an angry slash that cut his neck open from ear to ear. If Jo could have screamed, she would; but not in terror, instead in a demonstration of the immense anger that was bubbling up from the very pit of her stomach.

Jo had lost so much already in her twenty-five years; first her father, then the only home she had ever known along with the man she had thought of as a brother, and finally her mother. Jo was just plain through with losing. Her determination steely, Jo rattled at the bars of her mental cage with the fury of a wild animal.

As the false image of Dean's 'death' flashed once more through her mind, Jo's temper finally reached boiling point. Through the myriad of Leila's words, Jo heard herself screaming in rebellion and her mental refusal tore through her body with an almost blinding pain.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Jo had registered Dean's final words and, though his voice had seemed far removed from her jumbled thoughts, it spurred on the natural defiance in her nature. Her mother had given her own life so that Jo might have one, and that was precisely what she intended to fight for. There was the possibility of a future now, to build something good that existed outside of the realms of the monsters and darkness that for so long had been all consuming in her life. Jo would be damned if she would allow a skanky demonic bitch to steal all that from her like Meg had stolen away her mother.

Jo's fury escalated, merging with the fear, love and hope she felt as she gazed down through a haze at the man before her. Dean's eyes were open still as he awaited his death and he hardly blinked as he surveyed Jo's face; determined that she would be the last thing he saw. Leila's taunting laughter became a howl of unbridled rage as she felt her dominance over Jo slowly slipping from her grasp.

Jo gasped for air, her grip on the sword in her hand suddenly failing, and as an unearthly wail emanated from her throat she sank to her knees on the ground. Her head was pounding viciously but Jo continued to grapple with the demon in her mind, refusing to succumb to the agony that promised to engulf her.

Sam had finally reached the couple and he grabbed hold of Dean by the shoulders as his brother attempted to run to Jo's aid. Reaching behind Dean's back with his hunting knife, Sam slashed the thick cord that bound Dean's hands. Gratefully, Dean pulled his arms around to the front of his body, ignoring the ache in his wrists that was a result of his restraints.

"We gotta do something Sam," Dean demanded, his desperation evident as he searched Sam's face for an answer. The brothers' attentions were drawn to Jo as she staggered somewhat and then slumped forward, an internal battle clearly raging within her body.

"No..." she hissed, lip curling, Leila still evidently winning out.

Sam thwarted Dean's attempt to run to her side with one arm flung out in haste, and he matched the angry glare Dean shot him with a pointed expression, "This has to be her fight, Dean."

Glowering furiously at his brother, Dean shook his head in disbelief, "What the hell's wrong with you?"

Shrugging off Sam's restraining hold on his arm, he marched purposefully toward Jo, who was now slumped on the ground, her eyelids fluttering as her body convulsed uncontrollably. Sinking to the ground beside her, Dean pulled her across his knee and wrapped both arms around her. Sam dutifully followed behind and crouched beside them, unsure of how to help save for performing an exorcism, which he doubted would prove effective against Satan's daughter. Only Jo could reclaim her body but Sam understood Dean's need to help, no matter how futile it may be. Sam knew he would have done anything within his power to save Jess and he could not deny his brother the right to at least try.

"Jo?" Dean called sharply, wincing as her tormented screams pierced the air and he held onto her tighter. He watched her eyes flash between demonic black and the deep brown he had grown to love.

"Dean..." she shrieked, her voice holding none of its usual composure. "I-I can't do... it..."

"Yes you can," Dean retorted, shaking Jo angrily now in an effort to ground her. "Don't you dare give up Harvelle or I'll never forgive you."

"She won't win..." the voice that left Jo's lips next was bass and drenched with scorn, but Dean ignored both his own panic and the demon's promise as best as he could.

"You can do this Jo," reiterated Dean, wincing as Jo's hand seized his wrist and her fingertips dug into his skin with such force that they would more than likely leave marks in their wake.

"Get... out... of... my... body..." Jo gasped, beginning to cough and wretch violently now as thick, black smog suddenly poured from her mouth and nostrils.

Dean glanced up helplessly at Sam, alarm radiating from his whole body.

"Leave her," Sam ordered. "She has to do this alone."

Dean watched, eyes widening, as the demon was ripped from Jo's body at an alarming speed. The dark shadow swirled in the atmosphere above their heads for a few moments, drawing the gazes of the surviving primal demons. In unison, the creatures released pitiful wails that to Dean signified their recognition of their own defeat. Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled and a thick crack appeared underfoot. With the last of the smoke exiting her body, Jo collapsed onto her stomach, breathing hard and still gagging as though the evil had left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Dean and Sam watched, unmoving and unblinking, as the smoky remnants of the demon began to swirl in a sort of whirlwind before being sucked into the newly opened crack with a hiss. The ground sealed up as the last of the smoke filtered into it, and Dean let out a heavy sigh of relief. He shot a glance at the woman who lay limp in his arms now with her eyes closed and her hair falling in a tangled mass across her face.

"Jo?" Dean attempted, smoothing one palm across Jo's cheek whilst simultaneously brushing her hair away to the side.

"Jo?" he tried again, gently tapping her cheek to wake her. Jo's eyes flickered open very slowly and she coughed as she tried to draw in a deep breath. Every muscle in her body simultaneously ached and throbbed furiously, and she groaned in disapproval as Dean hoisted her up into his arms in order to carry her over toward Castiel and Duke.

The older hunter looked at Jo with concern clouding his blue eyes as she spluttered in Dean's arms and rubbed at her forehead.

"Is she okay?" he directed his question at Dean.

Jo sighed and opened her eyes, nodding as she answered rather pointedly for herself.

"I'm fine," she assured him, quietly demanding that Dean let her stand. Finding her balance on shaky legs, Jo cursed under her breath as she stumbled, and Dean secured an arm around her waist.

"I've got you," he assured her, his heart gradually slowing to a regular rhythm. Jo glanced up and smiled at him intently and, although dark shadows beneath her eyes belayed her tiredness, Dean was relieved to see the familiar warmth and light shining back at him from within them.

"We must leave, now," Castiel stated hurriedly to Sam and Dean who nodded in hearty agreement.  
"Fine by us, Cas," Dean replied, more than ready to return home from a dimension that if he ever saw it again it would only be too soon.

"What about these guys?" asked Jo, jabbing her thumb in the direction of the surviving hunters, of which now there were only seven. The few remaining primal demons were being cut down as they spoke whilst a trio of the hunters began burning down the buildings surrounding the landscape using the torches that had served as part of the ritualistic circle.

"I can't take them with us now," Cas said with a frown, "I only barely have enough power to return you, Dean and Sam home."

"We can't just leave them here," Sam interjected, ignoring the grumble of protest that emanated from Dean's vicinity.

"Of course not," Castiel hastened, arching an eyebrow at Sam as though he could not believe that the hunter thought he had considered that for a moment. "Other angels will be sent to retrieve them later on."

"And how do we know that will happen?" demanded Dean, his mistrust of the celestial beings more than apparent in both his tone and the curl of his lip.

"You have my word," said Cas, nodding once at Dean as though that gesture alone should seal his belief.

"You guys get going," Duke interrupted, suddenly seizing Castiel by the hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "I'll give Jo a call as soon as we touch down on planet Earth again."

He chuckled at his own humourless joke before wrapping Jo in his mighty arms and initiating the most gentle hug she had experienced for a while. She smiled at Duke, and he patted her affectionately on the head as he had done to his own girls for over two decades now.

"I was real sorry to hear about your Momma," murmured Duke.

Jo nodded, her bottom lip visibly trembling at the mere mention of her mother and the thoughts that Duke's condolences evoked. The events of the past couple of days and indeed the last week seemed finally to have caught up with Jo, and in her exhaustion she could no longer stem the steady stream of tears that began to fall.

Duke shook his head sadly, watching as Jo raised a trembling hand to cover her eyes and turned away, self conscious of her emotional display. Dean understood her reluctance to address her feelings perhaps better than most; he was never comfortable dealing with the events that had occurred in his own life and in that they were alike. But something inside of Jo had finally given way to her grief and so Dean did the only thing he could think of and held her close as she cried.

"We need to go... now," Castiel urged, laying one hand on Sam's shoulder and the other on Dean's arm. Dean pulled Jo closer into his embrace, laying his chin on the crown of her blonde head and rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"There's no place like home," Dean muttered sarcastically, shooting a glance at Castiel and Sam. It was locked in that very same pose that mere seconds later the trio found themselves transported back to Bobby's lounge.

Bobby glanced up from the newspaper he had been reading and grimaced as Castiel collapsed to the ground in a tangle of limbs, his strength clearly having been spent by the effort of the transportation.

"Well it's about time," Bobby drawled, his understanding gaze ticking to Jo whose face remained buried in Dean's chest as she sniffled quietly. With a brief nod at Sam, Bobby turned his attention to Dean and said with a sigh, "I'll go get the whiskey, and the medical kit."

Dean glanced down at himself and Jo, nodding as he lost count of the various cuts and superficial wounds that now littered their bodies. The wound on Jo's side would need to be cleaned and redressed. He frowned as he saw a trail of blood on her shirt where a suture had opened and caused her to bleed out. He wondered if when Castiel finally regained consciousness he would consider healing the wound permanently, if Jo was willing.

"Let's get you cleaned up..." Dean arched an eyebrow as Bobby slammed a large bottle of Jack Daniels on the table in preparation, "and... liquored up, apparently."  
Jo managed a brief smile at his attempt at humour and she nodded wordlessly at his suggestion. The idea of a shower, clean clothes and a comfortable bed were all too appealing and she felt as if given the opportunity she could sleep for a week. The couple stepped over Castiel's body, leaving Sam alone to attempt to haul the angel onto the old couch.

"Here you go, kid," Bobby tossed Dean an ice-pack, which the young hunter instantly applied to his eye and cheekbone. He winced and hissed in discomfort as his blackened eye throbbed in response. Jo took a seat on one of the kitchen chairs and gratefully accepted the Kleenex Bobby offered her, wiping hastily at her eyes and cheeks in order to scrub the tear tracks from her skin.

"I was starting to get worried," Bobby remarked, glancing at each of his friends in turn and noting with relief that they all appeared essentially unharmed.

"You and me both," Sam stated, sitting down wearily in the chair next to Jo. Bobby gestured discretely to Jo and looked at Sam in questioning. However, the younger Winchester simply shook his head, evidently inferring that the time for questions had yet to arise.  
"I'm gonna take a shower, if that's okay?" Jo asked, standing up and wincing at the numerous tiny aches that consumed her body. She hoped that the warm water would prove a soothing balm but was assured by the sight of Bobby's first aid kit that more pharmaceutical remedies were not far from hand.

Dean glanced up at her, concern clouding his features and Jo smiled at him in response, trying to allay his fears. Dean climbed to his feet and reached out a hand toward Jo, threading his fingers through hers as he bent to whisper in her ear. A second later, Jo seemed to visibly relax and a tired yet genuine smile briefly crossed her lips.  
"Clean towels are in the linen closet," Bobby called after her, watching as she slipped her hand from Dean's and disappeared slowly up the stairs.

Dean sat back in the nearest chair with a loud groan and immediately reached for the bottle that Bobby helpfully slid across the table to him.

"You two looked mighty cosy," Bobby stated after a beat, and the sound of the shower being turned on had drifted down the stairs, signifying that Jo would not be reappearing any time soon. Dean whipped his head up and glared at the man, awaiting the lecture he felt sure was impending.

"What of it?" demanded Dean, his exhaustion overwhelming his better nature and causing his voice to come out as a gruff bark.

"Just sayin'," countered Bobby, holding both palms up in a placating gesture. As Dean began to unscrew the cap from the bottle, Bobby breathed in deeply and then pressed on, "But I warn you Dean, if you hurt that girl..."

"Why does everyone keep saying that to me?" interjected Dean, catching the tumbler that Sam slid across the table to him and beginning to pour a shot of whiskey. "I have no intention of hurting her. So just... shut up."

Bobby nodded, watching as Dean downed the entire contents of his glass before pausing to refill it with a slight wince as the amber whiskey burned the back of his throat.

"Get a couple more glasses, would ya Sammy?" said Bobby, shooting a glance at the youngest Winchester. Sam trotted off dutifully to oblige, and that was the end of the conversation.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

**A.N. – Thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed so far. This is our penultimate chapter so be sure to let us know what you think.**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Dean lingered on the threshold of the doorway, quietly watching the curled up form of the petite blonde as she slept on top of the covers of the bed. With her hair still wrapped in a towel and a borrowed robe draped around her shoulders, Jo had fallen into a deep sleep whilst apparently sitting on the bed of Bobby's guestroom. Dean was hardly surprised given the events of the last few days, coupled with Jo's less than peak physical condition after the attack in Carthage.

Jo mumbled and stirred in her sleep, and Dean could not resist crossing the room and lowering himself carefully onto the bed by her side. Then, with gentle movements, he pulled Jo into his arms and settled back against the headboard with her. Dean had almost drifted off to sleep himself when Jo suddenly sat up in his grip, pushing herself up from the mattress on her elbow. She yawned and Dean's eyes were open instantly, his cheeks colouring as he realised that Jo would likely recall having fallen asleep alone.

"Hey," she murmured, rubbing at both eyes with balled fists before hastily readjusting the robe around her shoulders.

"Tired?" Dean inquired, simply because he could think of nothing else to fill the silence.

"Tired doesn't even cut it," she stifled another yawn and reached up to release her hair from the towel, a little surprised to note that it had dried into loose waves.  
"How long was I asleep?" she frowned as she combed her fingers through her hair, too tired to even consider locating a brush and detangling her wayward curls.  
"An hour or so," Dean shrugged. He watched as she tossed the towel onto a chair and then sat back on the bed beside him, letting her head rest wearily against the wall.

An uncomfortable silence suddenly descended upon them, so Dean searched out her hand and clasped it tightly in his own, relieved when she moved back into his arms and pressed her cheek to his chest.  
"So... now what?" she smiled uncertainly and stared up at him by way of a question, clearly anxious as to his reply.  
Dean wrapped both arms tightly around her, resting his chin on the top of her head as the scent of her shampoo slowly invaded his nostrils and he found himself releasing a contented sigh at the feel of her in his arms.

"I want to be with you," his tone was gentle and sincere, and he smiled as she lifted her head to meet his gaze, "you were in my head, Jo. You know how I feel about you, I... I want us to be something... like our parents had."  
Jo's smile was sad and reflective as she reached up to touch the angry bruise on his cheek, a stark reminder of how dangerous their lives could be.

"Things didn't really end well for any of them," Jo said softly, swallowing the lump in her throat with determination. She had done more than her share of crying over the last week and she knew now that the time had come for her to draw on the reserves of inner strength that she owed to her mother's upbringing.

"They didn't," Dean admonished, expression and tone both equally reflective, "and they may not for us. But we're not our parents."

"And we'll never know if we don't try," Jo agreed, smiling as Dean pressed his lips against her forehead. He withdrew and nodded, tilting Jo's face gently upwards to meet his own. There was an almost haunted look in his eyes, and on instinct Jo reached out to caress his cheek. The gesture seemed to relax Dean and allow him to gather the strength it apparently required for him to speak again.

"We still have to face Lucifer," he mumbled, the name leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. Jo felt her chest constrict a little as a pang of fear shot through her body, but she squared her shoulders and did her best to mask her doubts.

"And the small issue of Michael wanting to make you his bitch," she added, smiling as Dean shot her a look that clearly indicated he could have done without the reminder. Jo giggled and smoothed her palm down Dean's chest, her eyes falling on the pendant that he wore so religiously that one would be forgiven for thinking it a symbol of his god.

"We'll get through this," Dean said, his voice ringing out with a confidence he did not truly feel. "Of course, I have no idea how since we know the Colt won't work."

"We'll think of something," Jo offered in agreement, her tone resolute and leaving no room for argument, "we always do."  
Dean mulled over her words and finally a small smile settled on his face. He ran his hands slowly up and down her back and tried to block out all thoughts of Lucifer, Michael or the impending apocalypse. For the time being at least, they were alive and he and Jo had the prospect of a future together. That was all he wanted to think about. She was safe and in his arms and, until doom was battering down his door, that was all that mattered.

"Are you sure Sam's okay with me hunting with you guys? I don't want to be Yoko here."

Jo knew how important the bond between Dean and his brother was, and she needed to know that Sam had given his blessing to the idea of her joining their team. It had been just him and Dean for so long, and the siblings had been through so much together, that she did not ever want to come between them. Dean recognised this, and loved her for it all the more.

"Sam wants me to be happy," said Dean, "and if having you with us is what it takes, then Sam is happy too. He likes you Jo, so I'm sorry to break this to you but, looks like you're stuck with the Winchesters."

"At least until the devil kills one or all of us," Jo pointed out darkly, a grin twitching at the corners of her lips. Dean chuckled and ruffled Jo's hair in a playful and affectionate gesture that she scrambled away from with relative ease. Dean's smile tarnished and then faded as he affixed his gaze intently upon Jo's face.

"I don't know what I would do if I lost you," he murmured, causing Jo to blink in surprise at the uncharacteristic truthfulness behind his statement. "I love you."

Jo's heart rate increased until she was afraid that the damned thing would hammer all the way out of her chest. Blood rushed in her ears and a crimson blush flooded her cheeks. In the next instant she found herself in Dean's arms with no recollection of how their bodies had closed the distance between them. Her hands on the back of his neck drew him in closer to her, and they kissed as though neither of them had any requirement for oxygen. Dean's fingers trailed through Jo's hair and slid down to her collarbone, where the neck of her robe had opened slightly to reveal her perfect flesh. Dean slid his hand shyly and tentatively across her shoulder blade, and before he had registered what was truly happening, Jo was slipping the robe from her shoulders. She tossed it towards the bedroom door that stood ajar and mercifully her shot connected, closing the bedroom off from view as the door shut with a soft click.

Dean slid his hand down her waist, his fingertips tentatively exploring the curve of her hip as his eyes hungrily took in the sight of her naked body. Despite his best creative efforts, this definitely surpassed his expectations and the inviting smile on her face was going to be his undoing.

Jo smirked against his lips as he pulled her into him, her own hands fumbling to reach the hem of his t-shirt, which she helped him to shed and then discard on the floor.  
Rolling her carefully beneath him, Dean groaned approvingly through their kisses at the feel of her warm skin pressed against his. Dean trailed a path of kisses down her neck, playfully biting down on her skin as her hips arched up against his, one hand trailing down his back as the other reached for the button of his jeans.

His name left her lips in a breathy murmur and he claimed her lips once again in an urgent kiss as his eager hands explored every inch of her skin. Jo frowned as he suddenly pulled away and he panted breathlessly as he lay above her and tried desperately to muster his self-control.

"I don't want to hurt you, Jo," he explained, his shaking hand skimming the edge of the clean dressing that now covered the old hell hound wound to her side.  
She smiled in response and looped her fingers through the string of the pendant around his neck. She pulled him to her gently.

"You won't hurt me, Dean," she assured him, brushing her lips against his jaw and then against the bruise on his cheekbone. Dean nodded slowly, his eyes holding hers in an intense gaze before he pressed a kiss to first her top, then bottom lip, settling himself once again in the cradle of her hips.  
"Dean?" her voice was little more than a whisper as she smiled up at him, her fingertips caressing the back of his neck, "I love you too."

x-x-x

For once Jo greeted the dawn sunlight that shone through the chink in the curtains with a smile. Dean slept at her side, snoring softly, and the morning was as perfect as Jo was fairly certain a single morning could be. She knew that Dean had a reputation for disappearing on girls, but Jo had not once doubted before she closed her eyes the night before that Dean would be there beside her when she opened them again.

Sighing deeply, Jo nestled her body closer into Dean's chest. His grip tightened around her and he let out a low murmur of contentment that brought a flush to Jo's cheeks and a smile to her lips.

They had spent the entirety of the previous evening together, shut away in Bobby's guest room, sometimes exploring each others bodies with the reverence that only a new lover can, and other times drinking beer as they chatted about the directions in which their lives were headed. Everything was comfortable and so blissfully easy between them that Jo had wondered aloud why it had taken them so long to reach this very point.

Dean had not had an answer for her question, save for blaming his own stupidity and fears. But he had promised her the future, assuring her that how ever long they had left on this earth, they would spend their time together.

Jo closed her eyes and snuggled further into the pillow, the scent of Dean's cologne and the heat emanating from his body lulling her back towards sleep. She giggled sleepily as she felt a path of warm, wet kisses against her neck, and she blindly reached out to place her hand to his cheek in response.

"Mmm... good morning," he whispered, laying back against the bed as she opened her eyes and greeted him with a wide smile.  
"Morning." She lay sprawled against his chest, sighing airily as his hands swept across her back. Dean slid his hand to the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her down for a kiss, only releasing her once the need to draw breath became too great to ignore.  
"I could get used to this," Jo grinned, arching an eyebrow and leaning down to kiss him quickly.  
"Sweetheart, I intend to," Dean replied, smirking as he allowed his hands to explore further and he slid them mischievously beneath the covers, down past the small of her back.

"You're insatiable," Jo accused, feigning a frown as she drew the tip of her index finger in circles across Dean's bare chest. He responded with a grin and a wink, before flipping her over onto her back and leaning down over her body.

"I don't usually do this, you know," said Jo quickly, gesturing to the piles of clothing they had discarded on the floor the previous evening as their lust got the better of them. Dean nodded.

"Me neither," he quipped stoically, earning him a gentle slap in the arm from Jo.

"I don't want you to think I'm easy or something, Winchester," Jo continued, arching an eyebrow at Dean who appeared surprised by her statement.

"I've never thought that," he replied, "especially since you turned me down just over a week ago."

"I'd forgotten about that," murmured Jo, growing momentarily contemplative. "I'm still kind of glad that I did, though."

"Oh yeah?" Dean queried with real interest now, leaning on his elbow as he surveyed Jo, whose features were knitted into a pensive expression.

She nodded, "Yeah. Otherwise I may have wondered if all of this was just because you felt you owed me."

Dean's face clearly displayed his confusion and he shook his head quizzically, "Huh?"  
"Come on, Dean," she rolled her eyes, laughing as he still looked none the wiser, "you know you have a certain reputation. I wouldn't have known if any of this- you coming after me and all- was because you cared about me or just because we'd slept together and you felt like you owed me."

Dean appeared to think this over and then shook his head dismissively, "But... you would have still been able to read my thoughts, in that scary place we call my mind. You'd have known how I felt about you then."

Jo cocked her head and then shrugged in agreement, "I guess."

Dean sighed and reached out to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips as he spoke, "Jo, no matter what had happened between us, I'd still have come after you. But, I'm glad you turned me down, I'm... I'm kind of pleased we waited."

Jo guffawed and then clapped her own hand over her mouth as she realised there was a very real danger that she would awake Sam and Bobby.

"This is waiting to you?" she hissed in an amused whisper, dissolving into giggles as Dean responded with a solemn nod. "We haven't even had a first date yet."

Dean looked thoughtful for a moment before asking slowly, "Would you like one?"

Jo blinked, surprised by the question that she had not anticipated.

"Are you asking me on a date?" she pressed, her closely guarded expression giving nothing away. Dean swallowed hard, uncomfortable with the scrutiny with which Jo was currently staring at him.

"I am," he finally answered with a questioning cock of his head. "Would you say yes?"

"I would," replied Jo with a smile, peering up at Dean through wide brown eyes.

"Of course, it will be kind of difficult to date on the road," Dean admonished, a wicked gleam present in his eyes as he continued, "so I guess we should make the most of any moments we do find ourselves thrown together."

"Oh absolutely," Jo conceded, masking a grin behind her hand and nodding in a very somber manner.

Jo whooped with laughter as he suddenly pounced on her, sweeping her hair out of her face as an amused chuckle reverberated from his chest.  
"Jo..." he shook his head, trying to find the words that once again evaded him. He smiled at her tenderly and reached out his hand, sweeping his knuckles down the length of her cheek, "You're my girl."

"Okay," she replied softly, realising that no further assurances or explanations were needed. She knew all too well now how Dean felt about her and, even if he had not been brave enough to actually give a voice to these feelings, their experiences with the demons had allowed her an insight into his heart.

Dean winced, as if debating whether or not to continue on, but he rolled his eyes as he admitted, "I uh... I gave you that whole 'last night on Earth' speech because... because I didn't want to die and not know how it would feel to be with you."

His admittance was sheepish, and he tried desperately to avoid Jo's gaze as he felt a deep blush burn at his cheeks. Jo wordlessly placed a palm either side of Dean's face and dragged him towards her, claiming his lips with a fevered kiss.

"Now you know, did I live up to your expectations?" she asked smokily, batting her eyelashes at Dean who felt himself shudder as the pleasurable memories of the night before washed over him.

"Oh baby, you surpassed them," he growled, lowering his lips willingly back to Jo's and kissing her eagerly. They drew apart after half a minute and Dean found that an odd look had returned to Jo's eyes. He shot her a bemused smile, to which Jo only shook her head.

"Just thinking," she finally stated, deliberately cagey. Dean noted the somewhat sorrowful note to her voice however, and needed not question further as to what plagued her mind.

"It's ok to feel happy you know," he said gently, wrapping an arm around Jo's shoulder to provide her with comfort now, all lustful thoughts abandoned. "Your mom would want that."

"She would," Jo agreed, struggling to raise a smile through the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes. However, somewhat miraculously, Jo managed to thwart them, and even returned Dean's embrace.

"There's gonna be tough times ahead Jo," Dean said, his tone frank now but gentle, "there'll be days you miss her so much that it will hurt to breathe, and days were you wake up in the morning and forget that she's even gone. Those are the worst. You'll never forget her though. And once we're back on the road, maybe things won't seem quite so raw."

Slowly, considering Dean's words, Jo gave a slight nod. She sucked in a deep breath, and Dean waited with a patient smile, knowing that there was more to be said.

"Before we go, I..." Jo paused, glancing at the window and at the surprisingly bright light that filtered in from outside. "There's just one thing I gotta do first."


	16. Epilogue

**A.N. – So here we have it folks, the finale. This fic collaboration has been brought to you by authors Silverspoon, WelshWitch1011, and the number 3. Review? Pretty please?**

**Epilogue**

The day that Jo finally made it back to the roadhouse to plant the sapling was a characteristically hot and balmy one for Nevada. However, instead of returning to undertake the task alone, Jo had taken not only Dean along for the ride, but also Sam, Bobby, Castiel and Duke.

Finally, it seemed that Jo had come to realise that she was not the only one who would grieve for Ellen Harvelle. The others were respectful of Jo's wishes, and refrained from being smothering, but Jo had to admit that it was somewhat of a relief not to have to face the task alone.

Leaning heavily on Dean's arm, Jo watched in silence as Sam dug a hole in the spot that she had selected. Castiel, Bobby and Duke also watched from a distance, their heads bowed and Bobby having for once removed his permanently present baseball cap.

Sam stepped back from the freshly dug hole in the ground and leant on the handle of the shovel as he smiled faintly at Jo, signaling that he was done. Dean clasped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze, and she managed a smile as she peered up at him.

Letting Dean's hand slip slowly from hers, Jo picked up the sapling and knelt down on the dusty ground, carefully removing the plant from its container before she laid it down into the hole. Her expression remained neutral and calm as she brushed handfuls of earth over the roots, tucking the tree into the hole that was now its home.

Jo sat back as she stared thoughtfully at their collective effort, and lifted her eyes to the sky; she hoped that where ever her mother was, she knew that no matter where she went in life or how old she grew, Jo would always love her and miss her.

Glancing at the small group of mourners assembled around her, Jo could not help but feel proud of the obvious affection that Ellen had inspired. Bobby's mouth was curled into a tight smile as he looked on whilst the faint trace of tears glistened within his eyes. Dean and Sam wore similarly stoic yet contemplative expressions as they watched in silence; whilst Duke's eyes were tightly closed as he whispered a prayer under his breath.

Returning her attention to the sapling, Jo rested her hand against the rough trunk and allowed a genuine smile to grace her lips. She was thankful for everything that her mother had given to her, and the memories she now held; some admittedly better than others, but all reflections of just how deeply Ellen's love for her daughter had run. Whilst she had very little material things with which to remember her mother by, Jo knew that she would always carry the legacy of those things that Ellen had taught her; such as, how to properly cook a Thanksgiving dinner, how to hit the bullseye on a target with a shotgun, and how to hustle men old enough to know better at any number of card games.

Clambering to her feet, taking a shaky breath, Jo returned to Dean's side and allowed him to pull her into an embrace. They drew apart and barely a second later, Sam had moved forward and gathered Jo into a fierce hug.

"Thank you guys," Jo murmured, and she laid her head against Dean's shoulder as both Winchester boys stood with an arm encircled around her waist.

"Where else would we be, huh?" Dean sighed, realising that the sharp-shooting, tough talking and albeit slightly terrifying woman had been as close to a mother as he and Sam had known. Beneath Ellen's tough exterior had existed a heart of gold, and she had given her life not only for her daughter but also for them. Dean would never forget the motherly concern and affection she had shown the brothers over the years, nor her heartbreaking sacrifice.

"See you on the other side, Ellen," Bobby nodded, placing his cap back on his head and inhaling deeply as he gripped the back wheels of his chair and maneuvered himself toward their cars.

Duke scanned the horizon thoughtfully, turning to look at the pile of rubble that had once been the roadhouse. It was a tragic sight to behold, seeing the disjointed remains of a place that had once held so much life and laughter within its walls.  
"Won't be the same without this place," Duke observed, thinking back to the very first day he had happened upon Harvelle's Roadhouse and been greeted by the very people he had grown to look upon as a second family. Jo was little more than a toddler back then, and Bill and Ellen had been about as in love as any couple Duke had ever met; it broke his heart to consider the fate that had met the roadhouse's inhabitants over the years.  
"I'll see you kids back at Bobby's place," he nodded, winking kindly at Jo before then making his way slowly to Bobby's van.

A faint rustling sound signified that Castiel had also made his departure, perhaps too confused and nervous of the bizarre human ritual going on around him to verbalise his goodbyes. Jo smiled at the thought, simply pleased that the angel had bothered to turn up in her mother's honour at all, given that in the grand scheme of things Ellen Harvelle had likely been unimportant. The very word stung Jo, and she decided at once that there had not been a single moment in her mother's life that was not worth merit.

"I guess now we hit the road," Sam said, his gaze unwavering from the tree as it stood, thin and upright. "Kick that son of a bitch Lucifer in the ass, and make the folks proud."

"I guess," Dean replied, eyes also locked on the sapling, which he assumed would one day dominate the landscape long after they were all gone. He wondered what else would occupy the land, and what Jo would choose to do with the money she made from selling it.

"You ready?" Dean asked gently, brushing a kiss against the crown of Jo's head and squeezing her waist. Jo jumped a little, apparently having been too immersed in her thoughts to hear the words of either brother.

"You know, I'm not sure I am," Jo murmured, drawing simultaneously confused and worried glances from Sam and Dean. Sam cleared his throat, shooting Dean a pointed look, and patted the small of Jo's back before wandering off towards the Impala.

"It doesn't seem right to leave it like this," said Jo, turning in a slow circle and gesturing to the rubble of the roadhouse. She wrapped her arms around herself despite the warmth of the day, and chewed on her bottom lip; an expression of clear confusion and something that resembled longing tugged her lips downwards, and Dean found himself trying to coax them into a smile with a kiss. The gesture seemed ineffectual however, and Jo stood rooted to the spot, her eyes wide.

"You know we have places to be, right?" Dean said, his eyes never once wavering from Jo's face. She nodded in earnest, suddenly clasping Dean's hand in her own with a ferocious grip.

"Of course," she replied, and her tone revealed that she understood fully the tasks that must be undertaken within the coming months. "We gotta shove Lucifer back in his box and, believe me, nobody wants that more than me now."

Dean nodded, rubbing at his jaw with the palm of one hand before turning to address Jo once again.

"What if we come back?" he suggested, his voice uncharacteristically small, "when all this is over and we've won... cos believe me I intend to... what if we come back here? What if we put things back to the way they should be? Together."

Jo shook her head, as if not fully comprehending and she kept her gaze trained on his face as a small smile tugged at his lips, "You mean we rebuild the roadhouse?"  
Dean nodded, moving to stand behind her and he wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Yeah. You, me and Sam," he suggested, noting the incredulous expression that settled on Jo's face, "what do you say?"  
He knew that was what she wanted; Dean realised that no matter how long Jo may spend on the road, she secretly enjoyed having a place to retreat to- a place to call home. And despite his love of their nomadic lifestyle, Dean had to admit that he too longed for somewhere to go, and for a chance to have at least half a shot at something that resembled a semi-normal life.

"Dean, you don't have to do this just to make me happy," Jo shrugged, glancing up at him over her shoulder and then returning her gaze to the ruins.  
Dean pressed a kiss to her cheek and held her closer in response, "I want to make you happy Jo but... I want a home. I want a home with you and if that's not this place then fine, but this just... it feels right, you know? It's like a nod to our folks."

The sentimentality in his tone surprised her and she took a deep breath as she envisioned the hard work required to rebuild the roadhouse. It hardly seemed fair to expect Dean and Sam to toil over something that arduous, when it was not their responsibility to do so.

"I don't know Dean..." Jo began, sighing as Dean tilted her face towards his own.

"If the world is going to end Jo then I want you by my side," he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek, "and if it isn't, well then I want to be by your side whilst you rebuild yours."

Slowly, Jo nodded, and onto her lips crept a smile that remained in place as the Impala sped through the next three states towards Indiana, where Bobby had heard news of a succubus making short work of the male population.

x-x-x

Within the month, the trio of hunters came to face the worst of their foes; but they faced it nonetheless, together.

Going into battle with Lucifer was perhaps the most gut-wrenching, nerve wracking event of any of their collective lives. Beforehand, they talked, they laughed, they drank beer, and they ordered pizza so greasy that Sam was certain the cholesterol from it alone was more than capable of ending them all before the devil had the pleasure.

And when Dean gave Jo his infamous 'last night on earth' speech, she was more than obliging.

That evening, as Dean Winchester and Jo Harvelle lay in a breathless tangle on cheap motel sheets, they expressed their love for one another; nothing was left unsaid that either would not want to say when certain death beckoned. The next morning, they shared a single kiss and a knowing smile before going into battle.

Sam Winchester did not say 'yes'. Instead, he summoned Lucifer to him with the promise of a bargain, and with the rings of the Four Horsemen concealed in his pocket. Jo took the headshot that planted a solitary bullet from the Colt in the devil's skull, whilst Sam opened the gateway reciting the relevant Latin in a voice that trembled horribly with nerves.

Then, as Lucifer recovered from the bullet wound that true to Leila's word proved to be as harmless as a paper cut, it was Dean who flung himself at the vessel, sending Lucifer spiraling back into the prison that had housed him for centuries; alone and defeated.

Together, Team Free Will beat the devil.

_**The End**_

_**Silverspoon's AN – **__I would just like to thank WelshWitch1011 for writing this with me, based on one crazy dream I called her to chat about over our morning coffees. I love you very much doody, and this fic has been a pleasure to write with you!_

Of course, we can't leave it there, soooooo we would like to invite you all over to my profile to view a little fic called **'The Curse of the Winchester Women'**, the sequel to 'These Three'. Remember, reviews are a girl's best friend!


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